#but once i figured it out... i really like it lol

[take-a-dip-in-the-deadpool]

So listen, crime requires intent. You can accidentally commit crimes for sure but for things like tax evasion/fraud its really hard to prove intent, especially with a personal return. If you fuck up and do something wrong you'll, at worst, get a fine. But honestly you'll probably just be audited and made to pay back the differences.

Taxes are not difficult. Theyre overwhelming for sure and maths arent everyone's jam. But for basic returns you just plug your income in and the tax software will figure out everything for you.

There's guides online. Accountants if you can afford it. You're not going to end up in jail if you misplace a decimal. If you finish your return and the amount you owe/get if 10 times higher than usual then go back over everything.

I believe in you.

I started doing my own taxes 8 years ago, and my wife's are a more complex type because she uses her vehicle for work, and im a total dumbass. But im not in jail yet (we dont have tax jail in canada like that tho lol) but my point is that its ok to make mistakes. Even on taxes.

We got audited once and i'd put in the incorrect amount for my wifes maintenance spent on her car and we ended up having to pay back like $100 of our return. It was annoying and a little nerve wracking but it was NOT the end of the world.

[jjslvt]

UNDERWATER KISS ── .✦ tooth-rotting fluff .ᐟ.ᐟ

[bsf!jj maybank x fem!reader]

notes: i really wanted to post this for valentine’s day but couldn’t wait (also the pic, not mine & i prefer using screenshots of the show & making icons but that kinda looks like him so it goes lol)

imagine being best friends with the pogues and jj maybank being the one you were the closest with. you all had known each other for years and were almost like a family.

well, except you and jj?

the pogues knew that both you and jj had been pining after each other for a while. the two of you being oblivious to the other’s feelings, despite how damn touchy & clingy y’all are. the rest of them were just waiting for something to happen.

one random sunny day; the pogues were picking you up on the boat and jj instantly greeted you like a puppy who waited for his owner. he softened up more because of you, you were his exception to letting walls down — his happiness. the others knew that their best friend had met his damn soulmate because you helped bring these sides out.

on the boat, he’d sit right next to you — latch himself to your side, putting an arm around your shoulder and you didn’t mind. because he was also your comfort person, it had all just fell into place naturally and you both relaxed. the other pogues would share knowing looks at how you two were practically glued to the hip, giving secret smiles. they all wondered when you two would finally realize the true meaning of that profound bond.

jj knew he liked you, a lot. maybe even more than just like. you’re his person, he feels that. for once, he was very aware of his feelings and had processed them — trying to keep them secret but it was hard for the boy. especially with how he couldn’t stop himself from attaching to you, physically needing to be near you. he just hadn’t figured out if it was mutual but today in particular, he felt like he was struggling to contain it fully.

at one point, he pulled you onto his lap so you could lean on his chest. his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder. you had started flushing a tiny bit to which he couldn’t see but the rest of the crew did and snickered to themselves.

but as time went on, you all talked and joked around, enjoying the time together and feeling so free in this moment. it was the perfect chill day, despite you and jj feeling your hearts race because you two stayed in that position.

he was feeling ready to burst, to push the boundaries a bit more plus it wouldn’t be jj if he wasn’t teasing you somewhat. that was still in his true nature (and you loved it). so he started tickling your sides a bit, bantering with you at times. then he really surprised you by blowing a puff of air right into your ear which made you squirm and shift in his lap. he got a kick out of that.

though he couldn’t deny his heart skipped a beat at your reaction, wondering if maybe… he had a chance.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he chuckled, his tone teasing and smug as he whispered in your ear, only making you more sensitive.

“n-nothing, you brat.” you had huffed out, trying to regain yourself as you felt hot and a flutter of butterflies parade in your tummy. though you grimaced slightly at the way you stuttered and he started smirking to himself.

still pressed behind you, he decided to keep his lips near your ear as he blew another round of air into that ear.

“j- jj!!!” you whisper-shouted at him as a pleasant shiver went down your spine from the action and this time, he let out a delightful bark of laughter.

the others quietly stopped whatever they were doing to pay attention to the both of you, john b grinning slowly and thinking… ‘about damn time he starts doing something about his feelings.’

john b couldn’t help but add onto it, to push you out a little more and give jj more egging on to continue, “y/n, why is your face so red?”

you snapped your gaze in his direction for outing you like that, sending him a glare while sarah and kiara started giggling quietly.

pope chimed in, “damn, he’s right… interesting shade of red there.”

meanwhile jj’s hold on you suddenly got tighter when he heard his friends. his laughter dying down as he moved his head over your shoulder, turning fully to the side to get a look of that flush himself, feeling all too joyous.

“awe, princess is blushing? why’s that?” he murmured with the same playful tone but there was something tender in there too. he felt hopeful. which all went over your head as you were still somewhat embarrassed.

“oh my god, you’re all annoying!” you practically whined & pouted, trying to squirm out of his grasp now as you refused to turn your face near his (since you thought your heart would explode at the proximity).

the pogues laughed but jj kept his lock on you, unable to stop the urge to go further — feeling the swell of confidence. his lips grazing your ear as that turned red too, “calm down, baby. don’t get upset. do i gotta tickle you again?”

his ‘baby’ sounded a bit different this time and suddenly you found yourself wondering if he wasn’t just fooling around but before any more thoughts or reactions could come out of you, he DID start tickling again. right after he nipped your ear just a tiny bit, making your eyes widen.

your brain was a mess of short-circuits as his fingers tickled your sides so hard. you started thrashing against him — laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe, tears had formed and the others died too.

“j- jay… s-st— HAHA, sto- STOP!” you barely choked out the words between laughs and minor frustrations. as he heard your state, his relentlessness finally slowed and started taking a pause to let you recover but your frustration was rushing through.

many types of frustrations.

you quickly separated from him and stood up, trying to catch your breath and he followed (of course), standing up with you as you turned around to face him.

‘goddamn… you don’t know how fucking beautiful you are…’ jj thought to himself.

staring back with a tilted head; his eyes going dreamily half-lidded as he felt the air leave his lungs. he liked that you looked riled up — that crimson color painted on your face like art, the way your hair had gotten a bit messy, your lips parted to let out breaths. just everything about you… he thought was more than stunning.

he couldn’t help but give a soft smirk (your final straw). that’s when YOU took on a spontaneous turn, surprising him as you lunged towards him — throwing you both off the boat and right into the water.

not that he minded, he loved how you could surprise him at times though the others instantly lifted up — trying to look over and find you two, “woah!!”

once your bodies hit the water, you two had dove quite a bit from the impact… your brain was replaying that smirk. and remembering the way he had held you, the air blows and that damn nip on your ear. you couldn’t take it anymore.

you quickly grabbed his face as you two stayed under the water. you crashed your lips against his — he felt like he was dreaming, he couldn’t believe it was happening but it didn’t take many seconds for him to wrap his hands around your waist, pull you closer and kiss you with an equal passion. all the pent up desires and affections the two of you had felt for each other had erupted in the kiss.

it felt like time itself had slowed down… nothing was heard under the bliss of the waterscape and luckily, it wasn’t cold. instead it felt like you two were frozen in a perfect moment. just you and jj, nobody else around — except the cute little fish floating by. the scene looking ethereal as your hair flowed, like a mermaid. your hands dropped from his cheeks to wrap around his neck while he kept holding you. his body molding to yours and his lips moving eagerly against your lips, savoring how soft yours felt against his.

it was a wet but warm and extremely loving kiss, your first kiss together.

but you two couldn’t stay lip-locked down there. unfortunately, you weren’t a mermaid and merman so once you both needed air, you pulled apart and surfaced up, panting loudly. the others were still hanging over the edge of the boat with shit-eating grins, especially with how jubilant jj looked. it showed very clearly on his facial expressions that the boy just experienced the best thing in the world.

you looked up at them, floating in the water as you caught your breath while jj kept his eyes on you.

kiara spoke with amusement, “you two were down there for a mighty long time.”

john b agreed, “mhm… were you two maybe… oh, i don’t know, smooching?”

you playfully rolled your eyes though your blush returned again.

jj was about to reply with a loud, “ye-”

but you cut him off, a small silly tone, “pssh noo… not at all.”

they shook their heads, still excited and jj’s brows rose up as he heard your cheeky tone. he swam closer, getting right up in your space. his hands under the water grabbing your hips, “no?” he asked you, amused.

you bit your lip, his eyes catching it and feeling another flare of desire rise up within him.

“nope!” you continued your act and he scoffed out a short chuckle.

he spoke loudly for the others to hear, “really? cos i recall a certain princess smashin’ her lips onto mine.” his accent growing a bit stronger.

the others let out whistles, waiting for your reply.

“must have met a mermaid down there, jay.”

“oh, i did… mermaid princess and i think, i gotta remind her what just happened.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, he did exactly what you did under the water. in front of all of them — he proudly captured your lips in a fierce, swift movement. smirking as he heard you gasp out against his mouth… taking the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and taste what he had desperately been wanting to for years; the sweetness that was you.

all that was heard were cheers from your friends and sarah yelling in the background, “FINALLY!”

[genericpuff]

💣💥💣💥💣

so with Episode 67 finally posted and the dust settled, I wanted to share some funny behind-the-scenes stuff with you all.

Clip Studio is a great piece of software, it's what allows Banshriek and I to work on the same episode together via cloud-syncing (it's a function called "Teamworks" in the app) but it's also... kind of garbage sometimes. Without getting too much into it, CSP has a bottleneck issue with how it predominantly uses CPU rather than the graphics card in a computer. And considering it's literally graphics software, yeah, you can probably figure out pretty quickly with the most bare minimum of computer knowledge why this is a problem that's really silly for it to have LOL

ANYWAYS. This has been known to cause problems between Banshriek and I when trying to complete an episode. Problems that - often enough for me to tell you stories about it - result in us having to essentially "rebuild" the episode we're working on. This doesn't necessarily mean having to redraw anything (thankfully that doesn't happen very often) but it usually goes down something like this:

1.) The software suddenly has an issue syncing our changes which results in either conflicted files that can't update, software crashes that refuse to load pages, updates not even going through, or taking WAY too long to update to the point that we'd rather just rebuild and work on the episode independently and then swap the files and layers when it's time for the other person to do their part.

2.) I have to inform Banshriek that Clip Studio crashed again, and in the event that I can't get back into page editing because of the aforementioned issues ^^^ they immediately get to backing up their most recent version of the file that's stored on their computer. Thankfully a lot of the time these versions are pretty up to date, but it's still a moment of tension every single time because these crashes don't always happen the same way every time.

3.) Using the backup version, a new .cmc file (the file that contains every page for each episode, it's the thing that lets you make pages for comics in the software!) is created by whoever has access to the pages without issue (usually Banshriek is the one who's able to do it, this has become a very one-sided problem LMAO) and then is sent to me so that I can upload it to the cloud to replace the old version. This file is then usually called something like "Episode#BACKUP" to distinguish between both versions as we usually still have the older versions downloaded as well.

4.) Work (hopefully) continues as normal. Though it's definitely caused setbacks, so far our survival rate is still 100% 😆

This happens at least every other episode. It's become rare to go a whole episode without having to go through this process. We're still trying to figure out what we can do to avoid it, but we've tried a bunch of other options (and Banshriek has created some test episodes using pages from completed episodes that crashed for the sake of experimenting) and so far it's still a struggle understanding what exactly is going wrong with Clip Studio and it's syncing features. Fortunately, Banshriek and I are both auDHD enough that we're gonna obsess over it until we figure it out LMAO but until then, we're constantly having to treat Clip Studio like a live snake that's trying to wrangle itself out of our hands 💀😆

And the most recent episode? Episode 67, which ran a week and a day late? It set a new personal best for number of backups, because we had to rebuild it not just once, but TWICE.

What we've noticed is that sometimes you can barely make a change to an episode and these crashes still happen, as if major changes have been made. So far the best hypothesis Banshriek has come up with regarding this observation is that the software struggles more to update changes that affect overall pixel count and appearance - stuff like moving canvases, flipping canvases, adding on textured layers (which is what we do at the end of making each page) , etc. that covers a lot of pixels at a time, even if it's only changing the hues / colors slightly, seems to cause the most problems.

During the production of Episode 67, the following plagues came to pass:

Our car exploded

Our cat nearly exploded (btw! for anyone wondering from my last post about him, he's doing better now!)

Our toilet pipes froze twice (and exploded once)

Democracy in the U.S. exploded

My husband's wisdom teeth were exploding so the last 3 of them were removed all at once

The files for Episode 67 exploded twice and had to be rebuilt just to keep it on life support (by the end of the episode we were literally sending files back and forth via Google Drive like peasants 😔 /hj)

The most non-explosive thing to happen was the tattoo shop I work at moving locations up the street, and even then, I came very close to exploding a few times during that process LMAO (and our debit machine just exploded so we're cash only for the next few days sksksks)

This episode was probably our most cursed yet, and frankly, it couldn't be more fitting, I think Dionysus himself had a hand in our madness, just for the sake of being on theme with this episode. And the worst part, we haven't even gotten into the truly chaotic stuff yet. All Dionysus has done so far is slam Hades' head into a table, he's barely gotten started. Dionysus only knows what Episode 68 has in store for me and Banshriek as well 😭💀

[solshii]

here’s sol’s wip notes for her mlp svsss

sqq has a horn guard to cover his cracked horn (i assume it was near broken off when wu yanzi got to him and wyz would do some hoodoo voodoo backwater magic & cultivation to cure it to near perfection (without repercussions that would set back his magic and cultivation ofc))

lbh’s horn comes and goes (like a lightsaber) with his zuiyin. it helps with disguising as a normal pony, plus it goes in line with his whole rise to power with a ‘nopony is actually a secret alicorn’ pipeline LOL

higher class demons (i.e mbj, shl, heavenly demons) are more reminiscent to ponies (the same way they look more like humans in normal svsss) though majority of the demon realm consist of various species

i imagine majority of demons also dont have cutie marks as they are a variety of species, but maybe powerful demons probably get the chance to gain one (excluding binghe who gets to have one regardless since hes half pony)

we’ll.. figure out how to mix cultivation and pony magic together 💀🤞 somehow…

speculating lqg’s colour palette to be blue/grey/white (and naturally he has more moles around his body)

only heavenly demons get alicorn privilege so mbj is a unicorn

and sqh is a pegasus (airplane himself wouldve been an earth pony)

pony shen yuan would’ve been an average unicorn who can at most carry a few things at once. he wouldve been really excited when he could do all the cool unicorn stuff as shen qingqiu that he couldn’t when he was shen yuan

blackened binghe would probably have more black and red in his design

also everyone wears robes agsksj but yk i was fighting for my life 😞

some ponies (like lqg, sqh) only wear upper robes (and bracers) while some others (like sqq) wear robes the also cover their flank, though leave some open room for legs to move freely (see mlp gala dresses)

non-pegasi cultivators can probably still use their swords to fly (if we can fit two people on a sword, they can fit all fours on it i trust them 🤞🤞)

also yeah lbh’s guanyin pendant is in the same colours as the jade tassel on sqq’s cutie mark

i just thought it was cute

on cutie marks

i was gonna make lbh’s cutie mark just be his zuiyin but its subject to change

lqg’s cutie mark is cheng luan and a (probably white?? blue??) phoenix

i have no clue how to go about yqy’s cutie mark but i was telling someone about entertaining the thought of chains incorporated into it somehow as like,, symbolism for his whole deal with xuan su and his past as a slave, while also symbolising strong bonds (read: his attachment to sj), strength unity and all that makes him sect leader

since i wanted yqy to have something relating to how his past grapples at him without being inconspicuous for a sect leader and also having symbolism that really makes sense for a sect leader lol (plus chains are grey and it matches his colour scheme (put a b&w filter on this bad boy and u wont see a difference))

during their time as slaves, yqy and sj’s flanks were marked with 七 and 九 respectively. i think that if sj were to get a slave brand from the qius (icl ive read so many fics idk if this is a canon or fanon thing) it would be placed there as well

which is what makes the fan for sj a meaningful CM to me imo, like he’s hiding his past as a slave behind the fan like he does in reality, or generally metaphorical in the way 九 would define shen jiu and the fan defines his persona as shen qingqiu, iygwim

i took the poem on the fan from chapter 5 of dark clouds by invidia_envy LOL youll find it if you type in lyrics to the tune of wuyeti by li yu

i have no clue what to do for sqh either but i may just give him the generic scroll with a brush (sorry airplane (but it would be kinda funny if some of the scrolls are all crumpled up n everything))

also i imagine sj and yqy got their cutie marks when sj was in the qiu manor and yqy was having his whole xuan su fiasco, so they never saw each other’s CMs until their reunion. but i also dont know if this would be considered too late by mlp standards ahsjdj

my pens fixed and i havent drawn in a while

by the way theyre supposed to have robes guys i was just too confused to figure it out 😞

[myjjongie]

☾ BETWEEN SCARS AND KISSES ── p. jongseong

IN WHICH: the vampire you found one night always crashes at your place when he feels like it. only this time he's severely hurt.

PAIRING: vampire!jay x human!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, slight angst (not sure if its slightly or a lot LOL), minor fluff, skinship, mentions of blood/wounds, scars WORD COUNT: 2.2k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: i intended for this to be cuter but then remembered its vampire jay and i needed to make you all miserable :3 i love being evil. also sorry for making this late, really wanted to post this one right away.

the soft clicking of your keyboard echoed within your quiet bedroom. you paused for a moment as you began to think about something or perhaps someone.

it had been months since you last saw jay. your brows furrowed as worry settled in. you couldn’t help but count as the number of days turned into weeks then months. negative thoughts began to plague your mind as you continued to think about him. the worst part? you had no way of reaching him. he always turned up on his own terms and you could do nothing but wait.

waiting for jay to show up on his own was always frustrating. but what made it more difficult, what made jay different. was the fact he was a vampire.

your thoughts drifted to the first night you met jay. the memory so vivid as if it all happened yesterday. you were exhausted, tired legs dragging you home. the only thing on your mind being the comfort of your bed. but when taking that shortcut to your apartment did you see him.

at the time jay looked like a regular human who got beat up. left there all alone in the alleyway you couldn’t help but worry. feeling bad for him your meek body dragged his heavier set body back to your apartment. once there you treated all his wounds, which at the time were only surface level.

once satisfied with your not so perfect patchwork. you sat on the floor beside your bed. exhaustion soon taking over you. unbeknownst to you the mysterious man would wake up a couple hours later.

your body awoke at the ominous feeling of someone hovering over you. once your eyelashes fluttered open did you meet unfamiliar burgundy red eyes. your body was now shocked awake. before you could say anything was when you realized the band-aids that scatter his face were gone. it was as if he never had any wounds to begin with. there was no way that was possible, you remembered the red bruising so vividly.

before any words could be exchanged between yourself and him he left. you sat there for months trying to figure out if what happened was real or a dream. that was until one night he came knocking on your balcony window. you finally found out then what his name was and who he was.

blinking back to reality you stared at the bright screen. pushing away from your desk you lightly stretched before getting up from your chair. after doing so a loud sound was heard from outside your balcony window. the sound made your body jump causing your heart to race in your chest. slowly making your way over to the window your shaking hands peeled back the curtain.

relief washed over you as your eyes recognized the figure outside. sliding the glass door open you let out a shaky laugh.

“you know the whole disappearing act then showing up whenever you please, isn’t good for my heart. you scared me half to death.” you waited for his signature smirk, a teasing remark, anything. but jay stood there silent.

“jay?” you weakly called out to him. there was still no reply from him. that’s when you saw it. the blood. his body swayed slightly, almost as if he was barely holding himself together.

before jay could collapse your smaller frame caught him into your arms. you stumbled back a bit, your back pressed against the glass. panic surged through you, adrenaline dulling the strain of your struggle as you carried jay’s limp body to the bathroom.

you caught your breath after leaning him against the bathtub. once you were done did you notice his eyes flutter open. jay took note of your worried face. his own face twisted in pain as he tried to stand up, in the end jay was still seated on the floor.

“yn. i’m fine. it’s not that big of a deal.” his voice was hoarse and weak as he urged you to stop.

“what do you mean not that big of a deal! you’re at my window bleeding how can you say that!” tears started to burn into your eyes. you would be lying if you denied feeling at least something for jay. to see him this hurt and wounded in front of you made you feel anxious.

“yn..” his hand found its way to yours that was desperately clutched to his leather jacket. he could feel the way your body trembled.

jay knew it wasn’t out of fear but with concern. huffing out a weakened sigh he sat himself up a bit to undress himself from the jacket and shirt. letting him take his time you got up to find your first aid kit. once coming back to him, you finally saw his bare body for the first time. you weren’t prepared to see how many scars adorned his chest.

your eyes immediately noticed the gash on his abdomen. due to jay’s healing factor the deep cut was closing. even though it was healing it was at a slow rate. the piercing red blood that drenched his body slowly faded into a deep red.

settling down in-between his legs on the floor, you immediately got to work. you wrapped bandages across his body to stop the flow of the blood oozing out from the wound.

the tears in your eyes trickled as you continued on with your work. so worried about helping jay you didn’t notice his hand come up to tuck away the hair that was in your face. the moment you realized his gentle comfort was the moment he wiped away a stray tear.

you looked up at him your watery eyes studying his face. his eyebrows were knitted into a frown as he continued to stare at you.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you sniffled out still busy with the task at hand.

“i don’t like it when you cry.” jay softly said as his finger gently caressed your cheek.

“who’s fault is that hmm?”

jay hummed back in response as his hand still lingered on your face. you couldn’t help but notice the way jay softly rubbed his thumb on your lower cheek. not saying anything about it you finished up bandaging him. before saying something, jay cut you off.

“i didn’t realize you had a beauty mark here.” his words were soft as he continuously stared.

at the mention of the beauty mark on your face your eyes couldn’t help but look at the birth mark on his neck. it was quite fascinating how the mark was faintly shaped like a heart. next to his birth mark displayed fang marks, you always knew those marks were from a vampire but never dwelled much on it to ask him. you could tell he never truly wanted to speak on it. shaking your head from your thoughts your focus went back to the kit.

“you’d be surprised i have a lot all over honestly.” you let out a gentle laugh as you began to pack everything away.

once the first aid kit was closed was when you finally took the moment to examine jay’s chest. you never noticed how many scars truly littered his body. there were faint ones that were barely recognizable to the eye. accompanied with those were a couple big ones that looked as if it took many months to heal. without realizing it your fingers were gently running across the scar that occupied the middle of his chest. jay let out a ragged breath at your gentle touch.

it looked as if he took a slash from a sword or something even sharper and bigger than that. you took note of how the skin stretched together to fix itself. as your fingers traced along the healed wound you felt the way it was slightly raised yet rough.

“did this one hurt?” you asked softly, fingers tracing the distinctive mark. the silence in the bathroom made your voice sound small.

“in the moment it did. but once my body let it heal it wasn’t so bad after.”

“i see.” your voice trailed off as you noticed a scar that looked as if he got pierced by something.

the jagged edges resembled that of a spiderweb. the placement of this scar was on the upper left of his chest. all you could think about was how close the wound was to his heart. this one would have, no it could have killed him. your eyes began to water again at the thought of jay facing death on multiple occasions. the tears that brimmed at the edge of your eyes fell onto his chest. jay looked down at you studying the way your body trembled as you cried.

“why are you crying again?” his voice was a soothing coo as he began to wipe your tears away for a second time.

“thinking about how much you suffered makes me sad. i’m sorry.” your voice cracked as more tears left your eyes.

“don’t be sorry. i’m okay now yn isn’t that all that should matter?”

“yes but.” a sigh left your lips at the loss of words you had. it was true jay was here now so why were you crying about things that happened in his past. you couldn’t deny that the wounds you saw before you made you feel sorrow.

once your tears dried up a second time jay spoke.

“you were right yn. i am surprised at how many beauty marks you have.”

“where did that come from?” you let out a soft laugh. your body softly trembled at the cold touch of jay’s fingers trail along your neck.

his fingers gently tapped across any mark he noticed. the feeling sending a shiver down your back.

“you know. i heard a saying. every beauty mark or mole someone has was where their lover kissed them in their past life.” jay’s voice came out in a low tone as he eyed the dots that were scattered along your chest and face.

“then i guess my lover loved me deeply in my past life.” you smiled at the concept of what beauty marks and moles could represent. your smile immediately faltered as you felt the warmth of something press against your skin.

looking down you saw jay’s face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder. he laid butterfly kisses along the nape of your neck. the feeling was ticklish yet it felt right. a light whimper left your lips as you felt his sharp teeth nibble into your skin.

“jay…” your voice was a gentle hush. your fingers tangled into his hair for support.

despite knowing jay for a year, not once did he ever try to take your blood. if he was gonna do it now you were prepared for the impending pain. your eyes closed shut as you waited for his fangs to pierce into you. yet his fangs never broke into your skin. you hesitantly blinked open your eyes to see that familiar color of burgundy. as well as the faint mole under his left eye you’ve adored the moment you noticed it.

jay’s eyes held a hunger you recognized all too well. a desire he never truly allowed himself to indulge on. a desire to sink his fangs into you and taste your blood. you could always see it whenever he lingered close to you.

yet feeling this way he never gave in to it. he knew deep down if he did he might hurt you or worse lose you. his firm hands gripped your shoulder as he pushed your body away from his. he quickly stood up from the ground as he gathered up his shirt and jacket. he walked past you leaving the bathroom.

matching his pace you hurried yourself up from the floor following behind him.

“where are you going you’re still hurt?!” you couldn’t help but scream out to him watching as he made his way to the balcony.

his movements stopped, back faced to you unwilling to turn around. your eyes took in the scars that cascaded along his back. it dawned on you that everywhere on his body were full of wounds. wounds that he would never truly open up about. not now, not any time soon.

“i’ll see you later yn. okay?” as jay stood there he quickly put on the shirt covered in his blood. one hand opening the window ready to leave as the other tightly held his leather jacket.

“jay please…” your voice wavered reaching out to him. but he wouldn’t turn around to meet you. watching him walk away from you, you could feel your heart break apart. you should be mad at him. but all you could think about was whether jay would be okay. his body still battered with wounds.

your fingers twitched at your side. aching to reach for his hand hoping to stop him. but before you could even think of moving jay’s voice stopped you.

“i’m sorry yn. i’ll be back…” jay faintly turned his body to take one more quick glance at you. satisfied at seeing your face one last time, he vanished into the night.

you rushed to the balcony in hopes of getting one last glimpse of him, but he was already gone. only the faint glow of the street lamps illuminating the dark street remained.

perm taglist ( open! send a ask to be added ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek

©myjjongie 2025

[almostthursdayy]

Do you have any facts about L in Death Day? Or maybe stuff that's backstory-related?

I just wanna know more about your interpretation of him because you never miss + I love his DD design so very much :']

got really excited about this ask and ended up making a whole family tree + collage of memories from L’s childhood. . . whoops! ( i already know tumblr gonna chew and EAT these images so click for better quality lolol )

sphiel ( + alt arts ) about family tree 🌳 below the read more!

🌳 LAWLIET FAMILY TREE

first off, everyone’s wreath is based off their ethnicity. if someone has more than one ethnicity ( literally like 75% on the diagram ) their wreath is like some kind of mutant almagamation hybrid lovechild tree of the different kinds of trees.

>> also if they are dead, so is their wreath! and they’re also desaturated / greyed out. . . if they’re dead and crying, it means they were murdered.

>> and also each limb and each little leaf bush signifies something.

>> also i made a 4 minute long tiktok video speed explaining this you can click to see here lol

i’ll go L outwards for this, i hope you enjoy!!

🍰 LOVE ‘ L ‘ LAWLIET

european ( english oak ) , japanese ( japanese cedar ), ghanian ( cocoa tree ) , thai ( golden shower tree )

KOFI, biological mother: strong connection besides death. smarts came from her, she’s an intellectual lady who everyone always told him he looked just like her when she was alive.

VINCENT, biological father: also strong connection besides death. got his conviction and radicalism from him ( also he’s completely based on canon L’s looks ). L always thought he looked more like him than his mom.

WATARI, adoptive father: very strong connection, relies on this man for literally everything. very unorthodox father-son relationship, but L would call watari his father.

M, wife: oouughhhh he’s in love with her strange ways and peculiar looks. L’s type is interesting people, unpredictable folks who can pull the rug out from under him. . . M’s just that.

NEAR, biological daughter: his little princess, isn’t she beautiful? if near has a bad day, L’s having a bad day. currently he’s having the biggest ego trip right now because near wants to be just like him. and his selfish immature side kind of loves that he created his number 1 fan.

MELLO, adoptive son: that’s his boy, his interesting little guy that he totally doesn’t study the reaction of in every interaction they have. ( frankly most interactions L has he subconsciously treats as tests on the other ) but this kid interests him, so he’s very welcome to stick around and be his son, his little prince.

ROGER, father-in-law-figure: ‘ everytime we interact, i deduce you are a little less qualified for the job watari has given you. ‘

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ watari & L’s connection line is bountiful on his side to show the benefits of he and watari’s relationship. there is a small branch at the base of the limb to resemble somebody else L had a somewhat similar relationship with once upon a time. but shes not pictured.

➡️➡️ his wreath is covered in flowers, cocoa pods, and leaves to symbolize that he should have a very long life ahead of him.

➡️➡️ the small branch shooting off L & M’s love line is to represent his effort to connect to mello.

💫 KOFI PÍÈSÍE ‘ PAPRIKA ‘ PEPRAH-LAWLIET

ghanian ( cocoa tree ) , thai ( golden shower tree )

VINCENT, husband: she loved this man to bits! oh just the absolute most! it was a storybook romance truly, too good for this earth- - no one got her quite like her do <3

L, biological son: her pretty little boy, she was gonna make sure he was safe and protected in this big scary world no matter what! couldn’t wait to see what her little smartie grew up to be.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ no leaves and her cocoa pods are rotty because she is very very dead. . . all of her branches represent family members she had, her connection to them is severed in some form or way.

🎨 VINCENT ‘ DO ‘ LAWLIET

european ( english oak ) , japanese ( japanese cedar )

KOFI, wife: his first muse, his eternal flame, good christ he loved her to to the point of dedicating everything to her. all his paintings revolved around her in some form of way. often by including the stars she was so fond of.

L, biological son: if vincent was the moon, kofi was the sun, L was all the little tinsy stars. his one in a billion little guy. like kofi, vincent was also steadfast in L being able to protect himself from the big scary world. he was so proud of the little man he was becoming.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ no leaves because he is very very dead. . . and not really any branches due to a complete lack of family besides wife & son.

➡️➡️ one spikey for each person he’s gravely pissed off. . . three spikes lead to kofi for those hateful individuals who also despise her just by marrying him. and two spikes lead to L for two absolutely hateful sons of bitches who loathe L aswell.

🗝️ QUILLISH ‘ WATARI ‘ WAMMY

european ( english oak )

L, adoptive son: ah yes, his little prodigy that really should get out of the house more. . . fortunately, there’s a solution to that. . . just making him go! which L doesn’t seem to whine and complain about like he did once he upon a time, years ago. seems his boy has finally grown into a man that understands, whether he likes it or not, engaging in more civilian experiences is a necessity for he and his family’s health.

➡️➡️ watari doesn’t see the care he still puts into L now as continuing his fatherly care. it’s strictly as his butler / righthand. . . watari does not take payment for this work though as he ‘ has all he could ever want already ‘.

ROGER, life-long friend / father-in-law-figure: watari believes wholeheartedly roger can run the orphanage they built from the ground together. it’s too much faith and belief, really. so much that it blinds him to seeing how much roger is NOT qualified for this.

M, daughter-in-law: changed so much since the day she walked into wammy’s. . . he’s watched her grow from a much farther distance than L. he’s happy with the progress she’s made in her health from the sickly little girl who needed the orphanages help. happy to be her butler and listening ear when need be.

NEAR & MELLO, adoptive grandchildren: oh these children are much easier to please than L was at his age. . . but maybe that’s just the years of experience of handling L speaking. want a toy? got it. new puzzle? right on the way. need to be driven to soccer practice? hop in the car.

➡️➡️ since near isn’t the ultimate sweet tooth like L, and mello only really likes chocolate worth sweets, watari very much so enjoys making them treats that leave the comfort zone of L’s sugar craving.

KOFI & VINCENT, adoptive son’s biological parents: he bets they were wonderful people.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ no leaves on his wreath to signify he is old as a fart. but his longest branches have leaves to indicate that those connections are strong and he does enjoy them!

➡️➡️ each branch signifies a person not shown in watari’s life. specifically the one connected to his wreath is for family no longer here. the ones all along his line ‘ connected ‘ to roger is representative of other colleagues and friends. and the branches on his connection line to L resemble other children watari had a bond with as a caregiver. though none of them were strong, or made it as far, as his relationship with his son, L.

🥀 MASATOSHI ‘ M ‘ MIYAKE

european ( english oak ) , japanese ( japanese cedar )

AKUMI, biological mother: M only knows her through journal entries akumi started to write at the beginning of her pregnancy, like a baby scrapbook! M treats that thing like her bible. . . akumi was very excited to be a mother. . . such a shame she died right at the start of what should’ve been their jounrey together, huh?

KINSHU, biological father: M also never got to meet him. he died before she was born trying to protect akumi & her. his death is what caused the stress that killed akumi. so it’s all just truly unfortunate.

ROGER, father-figure: spent the most time with her during her years at wammy’s out of any other caregiver. since she was ‘ the easiest kids to deal with ‘ ( something she wore with honor back then, now doesn’t like to be reminded about ). M had once hoped one day roger would adopt her like watari did with L, now she’s glad he didn’t. as he continues to fumble his interactions with her ‘ not so easy to handle ‘ children. . .

L, husband: the weird little freak that lives in the walls of her manor. he intrigues her with his obtuse behavior and strange existence. . . but no seriously she’s head over heels for this scratchy beast. loves how much he spoils her rotten

NEAR, biological daughter: her precious girl, named near because she’s so near and dear to her heart, her little smartie pants whose just so goddamn smart. works herself happily to the bone to ensure near’s receiving the best care all around.

MELLO, adoptive son: her precious boy, her marshmallow, her little angel who always has a reasoning for his every obtuse action in her eyes. same with mello, M’s working round the clock to give him the best life a kid like him can have.

GEVANNI, little-brother-figure: sees him once a year at christmas but it’s like no time has passed every single year. first kid she connected with after becoming a caregiver at wammy’s at 18. but really was more like his stern older sister than somebody responsible for his wellbeing ( he was already a late teen when they met. . . wammy’s really wasn’t given the time to undo all the shit he went through beforehand )

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️���️ the way i depicted the japanese cedar doesn’t really have branches or ‘ leaves ‘ like the others- - but each little flowery looking thing represents somebody from her past or another relationship she has that isn’t depicted. . .

➡️➡️ her and roger’s connection isn’t nearly as strong as L’s and watari’s, and the three flowers on her end / three leaves on his represents a ‘ three chances ‘ mentality with his behavior.

➡️➡️ her and gevanni’s connection line is weak and nontouching due to the sheer distance between them. as gevanni kicked bricks and moved to the U.S.A. basically the second after he turned 18. still, it’s there, they still care about eachother.

⌛️ AKUMI HATO

japanese ( japanese cedar )

KINSHU, lover: she had a thing for ghostly men who say cryptic shit. and that’s exactly the type of man kinshu was. her love for him ran hot. really, the world wasn’t ready for this kind of lover. and really, her entire world shattered into a million little pieces when he died. . .

M, biological daughter: oh her precious girl, she knows M was going to go on to do great things. and do very very well for herself. after all, she is her daughter, it’s practically fated she’ll take the world by storm.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ every dead flower was a family member akumi had that didn’t take M in after she died. fortunately, as akumi doesn’t like her other family anyhow!

🕊️ KINSHU MIYAKE

japanese ( japanese cedar )

AKUMI, lover: he would do anything for her, he’s kiss the dirty ground she walks on. he’d rob every bank, he’d capture two of every animal, a true yearner.

M, biological daughter: the little ruler of his life in the making. he couldn’t wait to meet her, no doubt he was never more excited for something in his life. . . shame he never got to meet her, but he wouldn’t take back what he sacrificed to keep her safe.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ like akumi, each dead flower is a relative that didn’t take M in. which he would also be glad about, as he hated his family also. . . too loud- - too stupid- - too barbaric.

🫚 ROGER RUVIE

european ( english oak )

WATARI, life-long friend / father-in-law-figure: what would life be without his best bud in it? literally have been friends since roger can remember. and has basically just followed watari’s close footsteps wherever he went. ‘ you want to open an orphanage in the rubble of ww2? okay! ‘ , ‘ you want me to work there and generally help / care for the children? okay! ‘ , ‘ you want to change the mission of the orphanage to give care to the most misfortunate kids in the world? okay! ‘ , ‘ you want to retire and leave this place full of deeply troubled children in my care because you trust me and believe i enjoy this line of work? okay! ‘. roger knows damn well he doesn’t like kids. . . but watari doesn’t gotta know that.

M, daughter-figure: she was so easy to handle when she was younger. why is she so difficult now??? why are her children. . . the way that they are. . .? roger can’t believe the girl he once knew happily spends her days wrangling these two little goblins. . . and why are they not biting her but keep trying to bite me??

L, son-in-law-figure: ‘ oh L, watari’s pride and joy. you’re probably why your children are so weird. ‘

NEAR & MELLO, grandchildren-figure: ‘ why won’t you hug me but will hug watari? ‘

GEVANNI, family-friend-figure: ‘ hey you! i remember you! you were a real piece of work back then! haha! ‘

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ roger still has a lot of leaves on his wreath to signify he has a lot more life to live.

➡️➡️ same rules as watari’s, the little branches of his connecting line resemble children roger has had a similar relationship than what he has with M. but none of them have gone on as well / long as with M. >> the branches off his connection line to watari represents friends in similar vein. and both connectinng lines have leaves to symbolize the strength in them.

🌥️ ‘ NEAR ‘ RIVER MIYAKE-LAWLIET

european ( english oak ) , japanese ( japanese cedar ), ghanian ( cocoa tree ) , thai ( golden shower tree )

M, biological mother: oh, so this is where she got her brashness and attitude. near is glad this trait passed down, a lot less people try to tread on her when she’s got generational venom.

➡️➡️ near, whether she aware of it or not, puts a solid effort into what M says and asks of her. when often the words of others are sent into the shredder of near’s mind. this is because she loves this woman, that’s her momma, one of her only friends.

L, biological father: oh this is her idol right now! her own father has checked off every box on deserving near’s respect and admiration with flying colors! she wants to be just like him! she wants to do what he does and how he does it! she wants to be the next L!

MELLO, adoptive brother: she thinks he’s interesting, and looks up to him in her own unique way. he doesn’t know that though, and she ain’t gonna tell him.

➡️➡️ near enjoys shadowing mello’s activities, not very much so participating, but spectating. the cause and effect of what he does fascinates her.

WATARI, adoptive grandfather: ‘ yay the toy guy, thank you for the toy. yeah your gifts put me at ease enough that we can hug for a solid three seconds. ‘

ROGER, grandfather-figure: ‘ don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, you say nothing of value. don’t whine about it either, it’s your fault you are the way you are. ‘

GEVANNI, family-friend-figure: she thinks he’s very much so cool as fuck. he’s literally the alternative older cousin with the kickass car and laid back attitude. who, just like her, has interests outside of what would be deemed normal for who he is. . . basically, he’s everything she wishes she could be. but won’t be, because her brain just isn’t built to compute like his.

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ not much to go off of because she’s just a teensy thing. . . but under the flags is the very first flower, pointed at gevanni. meant to symbolize the importance of their relationship to her that will last years to come.

🍫 MIHAEL ‘ MELLO ‘ LAWLIET

croatian ( slovanian oak ) , european ( english oak )

M, adoptive mother: his confidant, his protector. didn’t give up on him when everyone else did. he’s too little and damaged to really express that he’s grateful for her, but one day he will. for now, his continuous reliance on her will just have to be proof enough that he trusts her.

L, adoptive father: oh this guy is cool. . . THIS GUY IS FAMOUS!! mello wants to be the next L right now, but as a better and brighter successor, he wants to be the BEST! and he’ll do whatever it takes to win L’s affection and ensure this future is his!

NEAR, adoptive sister: ‘ augh! don’t you see i’m trying to become my own person? damnit! stop following me around!!! “ “ . . . oh no wait, don’t go, watch this totally epic prank i’m about to pull you’ve love it! “

LILLIE, biological aunt: heaven has to be real because his aunt really deserves it. he misses her the absolute most. . .

WATARI, adoptive grandfather: ‘ yay the guy that gives me chocolate even after i’ve been cut off for the day. sure i’ll let you hug me because of these positive experiences we’ve had. don’t expect a hug back though, i’m not a pansy. ‘

ROGER, grandfather-figure: ‘ M & L said i can bite you if you try to force me into a hug again. but i’m just gonna do it right now anyways because i don’t like the look on your face. ‘

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ his wreath is growing little acorns to signify his growth since entering the family. that’s why there are so many around the knot that connects him to near, M & L.

➡️➡️ the connecting line to him and his aunt is force cut, but still there, and still strong. he already has two branches trying to grow towards her.

➡️➡️ the little branches jabbing into near’s wreath symbolizes how they don’t always get along that well. and they’re growing from mello’s side despite their spats being a two person effort because near’s very good at manipulating situations into looking like she’s just an unfortunate passerby. especially with mello who is still dealing with lots and lots of big emotions. . .

➡️➡️ two of the little acorns growing represents matt but i ain’t gonna tell you which:3c

📿 LILLIE KEEHL

croatian ( slovanian oak )

MELLO, biological nephew: oh her little buddy, it should’ve just been him and her from the very start. lillie’s every rotty little fiber is tensed not knowing if he’s safe from her horrid sister and wretched brother-in-law. . .

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ what you should expect at this point. no leaves because she’s dead, branches symbolize family not shown. her branches reach in mello’s direction always.

💰STEPHEN ‘ GEVANNI ‘ LOUD

european ( english oak ) , japanese ( japanese cedar )

M, big-sister-figure: gevanni once rejected M’s proposal of joining the family. as he didn’t want family holding him back. still, despite his efforts to stay hidden in the darkest little crevices of the world, M manages to get him an invitation for christmas dinner every year. and he RSVP’s every single time.

L, brother-in-law-figure: ‘ god you’re strange. . . i can see why M likes you. ‘

NEAR & MELLO, niece-&-nephew-figure: ‘ hey kids, wanna hear about the time i broke into this super big important museum and stole a statue bust worth millions??? oh, just near? fine by me-! ‘

ROGER, grandfather-figure: ‘ every family’s gotta have a guy like you around, roger, it just ain’t the full experience without the weird grandpa. ‘

WATARI, grandfather-figure: ‘ you may be responsible for leaving roger in charge of wammy’s, and that might have been a crazy decision, but god do you make a good strawberry shortcake. ‘

BRANCHES & LEAVES SIGNIFICANCE:

➡️➡️ each little leafy tendril is a connection gevanni has. BUT NOT FAMILY! he doesn’t have any of that. . . he’s a lone wolf. . . an alpha male, if you will.

➡️➡️ still, the connection to M is there, and he is developing a strong connection with near, slowly.

🌳 yay, thank god, i’m done. this is so long, but i love it. and just like most asks i take every single chsnce to yap too much. . . but now you know about L’s entire family dynamics!! so yayy!!!!!

THESE are just little memories. . . L coming to wammy’s house, he and M’s first kiss, & that time he caught M crying and tried to comfort her despite being right shit at it. it’s the thought that counts, y’know <3

[izzydaninja]

Something I noticed while (definitely not) editing something Sonic Prime related:

In episode 1 of season 2, Sonic and Shadow finally confront each other about their world's destruction due to the prism.

When Shadow leads Sonic back to the cave where it all started, they find the prism as a ghost, unfinished with a single fragment remaining. (A sign of their unity and division.)

Sonic states he'd do anything to be back, and Shadow finishes the statement: 'home.' They both wish to go back home, the same goal in mind. So, when Shadow tells Sonic there is still a chance, and Sonic follows him up to the prism, they're both standing in front of the prism shard on the same side: implying their shared goal.

Then, as Shadow starts to explain things, something changes...

He walks around the prism blueprint - making the prism a divider now.

From this point on, they may share the same goals, but it's evident that they do not share the same ideals on how to reach it, leaving them arguing once more.

No matter the shot...

No matter the angle...

The prism stands as their divider: two sides of the prism so-to-speak.

Even in a stand-alone shot with Shadow:

They make sure to keep the shard in view for this shot; unlike any other stand-alone shot of him or Sonic, where the shard is not even visible.

Not only is it a reminder that it's a divider, as it still sits in the way, but it's now present in a shot where Shadow outright declares: "Sonic! You literally broke our world. Why would I trust you to do anything!?" The prism shard is now a symbol of the home they lost (as it sits in a ghostly replica of their Green Hill).

After this, Sonic is cut off from anything he went to say as Shadow spindashes him across the cave, stating that he's taking charge on this one.

But the disagreement and fight isn't surprising (knowing the two), because they hinted at it from the beginning. Yes, they were fighting before Sonic fully knew what was going on, but at this point, they both know what's in play and they both want the same thing, but there's this hidden truth that they'll do different things to get what they want. Sonic even says himself, once Shadow says he's getting the shards: "No way, Shadow! I know what you're capable of and that's not gonna happen!" Then he's further defending his other friends in the different shatterspaces.

Sonic wants to go home, to fix what he broke, but where he'll team-up and help others as he goes, Shadow will push through and take out anyone who tries to stop him from fixing their home. The prism shard, standing as the symbol of their home, also shows the clear division between the two, even before they started disagreeing; giving us the heads up that the fight was coming.

(Yes, I know these screenshots are quality garbage, but I didn't really have a better option available at the time, not unless I went further digging for the Netflix footage, but I didn't feel like it. Lol)

I just found this very interesting as I went through the cave scenes. Looking from shot-to-shot to notice the shard is only ever shown when directly between the two once this whole conversation starts.

Hope you all liked this little analysis-thing, because I don't know if I'll do any more in the future. XD I'm not much of an analyzer. I just like to talk about details and things I've noticed with my siblings or friends, so this was a step further than usual. I just figured: "I have the screenshots already, why not?" XD

Anyway, thanks for reading my rambles!

[disgruntleddemon]

i've racked my brain trying to figure out an in character way for Shifty to be integrated into the better world timeline main cast, but i'm throwing my hat it. they can be a little ooc for this. this is pretty long, so i'll put it under a cut:

sometime after Fiddleford moves in, but before him and Ford are officially together, the trio goes to check on the bunker (ford mentions planning on doing this in j3, so yayyy, an excuse for them to be there)

they quickly realize the cryotube is broken, and shifty has escaped (how did this happen? is that when shifty escaped in cannon? i have no idea, man) anyway, Fiddleford needs to go in with them to fix it, so Ford and Stan are on shifty hunting duty. meanwhile, shifty saw them, and assumes Stan is another shapeshifter

at some point, Ford and Stan get separated, so Shifty goes to Stan like "idk what that guy told you, but it's probably a lie. lets help each other escape!" Stan uses this to lure him to Ford lol

this is where we get the big confrontation/conversation between everyone. shifty wants out cause he was taken by Ford and Fiddleford for the sole purpose of being experimented on and being used to test the cryotubes. he wanted the journal to get new forms as a defense, and to use it as a guide for escape and life on the outside.

he's been playing nice at the moment and not attacking anyone to prove he'll be fine now. he just wants to go to the surface and live his life like he was supposed to if Ford had never found him.

every one else is not sure what to do. well, mostly Ford and Stan. Fiddleford is pretty set on the "put him back in the tube" approach

Ford is really flip flopping, he has a lot of trust issues after Bill, Shifty's original betrayal affected him, and it hurt Fiddleford (which was probably the worst part to Ford). but, he does see Shifty's perspective and feels kind of guilty.

i think i've spent like a week trying to figure out how they settle things, and i'm kinda calling it quits with that too. my best idea is a microchip. basically, Ford points out the cryotube thing really was unethical, and it broke before so it might again. plus, if they just leave shifty down there, he might tunnel his way out anyway, he's already forming some. and finally, killing him would also be unethical, and also a waste of an incredible scientific discovery .

so they decide to chip him and keep him at the cabin as a trial run. not great that shifty's still a prisoner, but i couldn't see them just letting him go. the chip, made by Fiddleford obviously, alerts them when shifty changes shape, if he manages to get it out, and prevents him from going too far out of a certain radius.

as time goes on, shifty is allowed to go further and further, and they trust him more. it's a very slow transition, that's mostly a matter of shifty becoming part of the daily routine. one of those "you can pretty much get used to anything after awhile" things.

i think they realize also, that shifty's still a juvenile. he's true form is still growing and changing. i put him somewhere in the 12-14 range. i haven't decided how they go about raising him just yet, but his human disguise is pretending to be Stan's son. between the mystery trio, stan having a random son makes the most sense.

shifty likes to keep his form kinda close to looking like himself, so if ppl ask about his appearance, he just says he's albino.

the transition period from not trusting him and being a prisoner, to being a proper member of the cabin is one i'm still very undecided on. but for now, i think the summery works well enough. once he's more comfortable with himself and his place in the house, shifty becomes very mischievous and adventurous! he likes doing pranks and getting into stuff

anyways, if anyone has any suggestions about him, i'm very open to it!! he's a hard character to figure out/integrate

[cowboyidiot]

ok my thoughts on this aren't fully formed but to me it’s like yeah markhelly infidelity lol i love to joke but i think boiling it down to that doesn't really do the situation justice to me. mark didn’t want to sit with his own sadness so he quite literally created an entirely separate person who was born so he could both live a life without this crushing emotion and memory of his wife and turn himself off for 8 hours a day. 

and the thing is, it worked. yes, mark s experiences secondhand grief from his outie, but he doesn't remember gemma. that's not his wife. he already didn't want anything to happen to ms. casey, and he wants his outie to be happy, so he wants to help both of them once he finds out the truth, but he also feels something for helly that is entirely his own, not lumon's, and not his outie's. he was born to serve the agenda of both a company holding him hostage for labor, and an outie who is using him as means to an emotional end and he finally finds someone of his own. yes, of course there are similarities between him and outie mark but mark s doesn't have any memory of gemma and was quite literally created so mark could have a chance of escaping and moving on. he does. 

here's the thing though. outie mark reintegrated solely to see his wife. what a surprise it’s going to be for mark to have to live on with all the grief for gemma he was trying to hide from and suddenly be also drowning in grief from another life, another love, another betrayal. 

he has no idea mark s is reeling from helena's betrayal, not recognizing helly was missing, irving's death due to his blinding first love, and the anger helly is sure to direct at him for a situation he also feels horribly about. milchick even told him his innie found love! mark still viewed reintegration as his decision to make on a whim, not considering his innie's life and experience as something to seriously consider in his decision even though he was fully ready to leave mark s with "who is alive" burned on his eyelids and let him figure out how to get the answer to the outside with no help. the innies lives and emotions are inherently considered inferior. 

what happens, then, when suddenly the love that was a direct repercussion of his severance feels just as real as the grief he still hasn't managed to escape? i wouldn't categorize his relationship with helly/helena as infedelity, not only because reintegration seems to be a slow process mark s is only just starting to experience when he and helena have sex, but because mark s is not and was never married to gemma. his experience doesn't deserve to be relegated as purely an affair because his outie's emotional and personal life is validated and his is not. that isn't his wife. mark got exactly what he wanted from severing, he forgot gemma, and now he has to live with the consequence of emotional contradiction. 

this also paralells irving and helena's experience with their own innies, both of whom went into lumon with a specific agenda that blew up in their face (again, because they did not and do not consider their innies as fundamentally autonomous). the things outies believe are intrinsic to their personhood and lived experience, in mark's case his overwhelming devotion and love for his wife, are all turned on their head because this show is inherently about exploring the contradictions within personal identity and how those might manifest physically if these contradictions were housed in a single person's body.

you can't both create and destroy different choices, different versions of yourself, because you wish things were different and experience no consequences. the consequences are in direct response to his wish to forget gemma. in the end, it really is a double edged sword to reintegrate because mark is about to understand that every single thing he wanted out of severing he got, and he can’t turn his brain off again to avoid it. he wanted to forget gemma, and he did. he wanted to be happy and move on, even if it was as a different version of himself, and he did. he wants to see his wife? well now he has two of them. 

[gojougf]

love me not .ೃ࿔ gojo satoru

synopsis ╰┈➤ pining over your best-friend's brother for as long as you can remember actually did work out in your favour!

wc: 6.1k

warnings: shameless smut bc i was deprived of having the best friend's older brother experience, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of food, fem reader, angst if you squint really really really hard.

a/n: this is a remake of a geto fic i wrote last year on ao3 when i was missing tumblr bc i had to visit my home country, and tumblr is actually banned there.. so in the offchance you did read my fic on ao3 (it has like 1k hits so you probably haven't) this is the same author lol! my writing lowkey sucked back then. not proofread so if it does say suguru's name instead of satoru it is not my fault ok ( ´ ω ` )

You rolled over, stomach aching with hunger, as you listened to the slow, steady breathing of your best friend. The dim glow of the clock read 3:25 AM. With a sigh, you stared at the dark ceiling, unable to ignore the gnawing emptiness in your stomach any longer.

It was your sleepover with Ami, but an ill-timed nap during dinner had left you feeling both restless and starving. Giving in, you quietly tiptoed out of the room and made your way to the kitchen, hoping there were some leftovers from the meal you and Ami had prepared earlier.

Switching on your phone’s flashlight, you barely stifled a scream when a dark figure loomed in the kitchen. Your heart slammed against your ribs as the figure turned, moonlight catching sharp eyes—ones that, even through your panic, you recognized instantly.

"Y/N? What’re you doing here?"

The deep, sleep-roughened voice of Gojo Satoru, Ami’s older brother, filled the silence. He spoke through a mouthful of Oreos, crumbs clinging to his lips. You exhaled shakily, quickly turning off your flashlight.

"I—uh, I was hungry and couldn’t sleep," you admitted, staring at anything but him. "Thought I’d grab some of the leftovers."

Your heart still pounded in your chest, but now for an entirely different reason.

You had known Gojo Satoru for as long as you could remember. Through every phase, every milestone, every moment of your friendship with Ami—he had always been there. Not always present, but there. Three years older, confident, effortlessly cool. While Ami was open and fiery, Gojo was just as lively—charming, talkative, always the center of attention. He had a way of making people feel at ease, flashing his easygoing grin and slipping effortlessly into conversation. But with you, it was different. With you, he was distant. Playfully dismissive at best, indifferent at worst, like you were the only person in the world he had no interest in figuring out.

And yet, despite his distant nature, one undeniable truth remained: you had been hopelessly in love with him for years.

Only two people in the world knew this—Ami and your diary.

You still remember the first time you saw him. Fourteen-year-old you had been completely mesmerized by the sight of Ami’s older brother—the ivory, icy hair, so similar to his sisters (you’d always called them Elsa’s siblings) the shirts he’d wear that did little to hide the toned body he had began building once he started hitting the gym, biceps filling the sleeves, and the way the muffled sound of his electric guitar filtered through the walls when you and Ami were in her room. You had been too shy to even approach him, content to admire him from afar, heart pounding at every accidental brush of his arm when he passed by.

Your infatuation had been so painfully obvious that Ami had once turned to you, deadpan, and asked, "Do you like my brother?"

You stammered, cheeks burning, only for her to roll her eyes and say, "I don’t care, do whatever you want."

But wanting had never been enough.

Over the years, you had tried—desperately—to get his attention. Push-up bras you had no business wearing at sixteen. Cherry-flavored lip gloss, tiny shorts, stolen tank tops from your older sister. Cute bikinis on beach trips with Ami, hoping his gaze would linger just a second too long. But he never looked. Never really looked. To him, you were just his little sister’s friend.

Seventeen-year-old you had given up entirely.

Especially when you saw the other girls.

The ones he did look at. The ones he brought home late at night, holding them close as they giggled against his shoulder, their hands roaming across his tall, lean frame. The ones who disappeared into his room, only for you to hear muffled noises through the walls no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

"Give up already," Ami had told you bluntly one night, rolling her eyes. "My brother’s a whore."

Now, at twenty, with college life keeping you busy, Gojo Satoru has become little more than a distant, bittersweet memory. You had forced yourself to move on, burying that old crush deep in the past where it belonged.

But then, summer came.

And Satoru was back.

Home for a few weeks, lounging around the house like he owned the place. Teasing Ami relentlessly, getting on her nerves while you stood awkwardly by, watching the two siblings bicker. Occasionally, he would drag you into the conversation—just to fluster you, just to see you squirm.

At most, your only real interactions with him had been when he gave you and Ami a ride to school in his car or when he felt like helping with your math homework. Even then, it was never just help. It was teasing Ami for her awful math skills, then turning to you with a smug grin and exaggerated praise, just to make her mad.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

It had to mean nothing.

And yet, as you stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, watching him casually eat Oreos under the moonlight, you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Like that fourteen-year-old girl was still somewhere inside you, heart still foolishly hoping.

You stood there awkwardly, stomach no longer the only thing in knots. This was the first time you’d ever been alone with Gojo Satoru, and suddenly, you had no idea what to do with yourself.

"You want some Oreos?"

He pushed the half-empty packet toward you from across the counter, chewing lazily on one himself. "Oh—uh, thanks." You took one, feeling a little ridiculous as you nibbled at the edge. Turning away, you busied yourself with the microwave, searching for the tacos you and Ami had left behind earlier. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the way Satoru raised an eyebrow. You weren’t exactly being subtle about your discomfort.

"Are you scared of me or something?" His voice was teasing, but there was curiosity behind it. "You never talk to me." You turned, startled by his bluntness. "I’m not scared of you," you said quickly. "I just… don’t really know what to talk to you about." He let out a low, breathy laugh at that, and warmth spread through your body at the sound. God, why did he have to sound like that?

"Oh, really?" he mused. "I’ve known you for years, and this is the first time we’ve actually had a conversation without Ami around." You didn’t have a response for that, so you focused on the tacos instead, pulling them from the microwave and settling onto a chair near the countertop.

Satoru snickered, shaking his head as he turned to the fridge. He rummaged through it with his broad back to you, the muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his tank top. Your gaze drifted downward, trailing from the taper of his waist to the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His icy hair was gleaming under the dim light of the fridge, looking pristine even at such an absurd hour in the night. With a small flustered twinge in your chest you noticed how he had an undercut now— why’d he look more.. delectable than usual? Were you ovulating?

He turned back around, holding a container of leftover cake. You quickly looked away, flustered. "You like strawberry cake, don’t you?" He cut two slices, sliding one toward you. You blinked in surprise. "How do you know that?"

He smirked at your expression. "Ami mentioned it once. When she threw you that surprise party for your 16th birthday." Your breath caught. That was nearly four years ago. You hadn’t even thought he knew about that party, let alone remembered such a small detail about you.

Heart fluttering, you took a bite of the cake, trying to push down the giddy feeling creeping up your spine. Slowly, the tension between you began to ease. Satoru was surprisingly easy to talk to—charming, even. He started sharing embarrassing stories about Ami, making you laugh so hard you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. You learned that he wasn’t as distant as you had always thought—if anything, he was naturally outgoing, effortlessly getting along with everyone. Everyone except you, or so it had always seemed. But now, as the conversation flowed and you found unexpected common ground, you realized he wasn’t avoiding you—he just never had a reason to talk to you. Until now. You also learned that he had a lot more in common with you than you expected. He was into photography, filmmaking, and music composition, even studying music at university.

What started as a midnight snack turned into hours of conversation. Before you knew it, the sky was shifting from black to a soft, early-morning blue. 

"Never knew you were this cool, Y/N." 

You tried not to visibly preen at his words, fighting to keep your composure. "So you didn’t think I was cool before?" you teased. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "C’mon, you know what I mean." Then, more casually, he added, "You should hang out with me sometime. I could show you some of my short films, if you’re interested." Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could stop yourself, you nodded—a little too eagerly.

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. But then, for the first time that night, his gaze flickered—down. Just briefly. You caught the way his eyes lingered at the neckline of your flimsy sleep shirt before snapping back up to meet yours.

A shiver ran down your spine.

But before you could overthink it, Satoru stretched, gave you a lazy grin, and bid you goodnight before heading back upstairs. When you finally slipped back into bed next to Ami, she was still sound asleep, completely unaware of your absence. You buried your face in the pillow, heart pounding.

You had definitely caught him looking.

And just like that, your years-old crush was back in full force.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

A few days later, you were back at Ami’s house, waiting for her to return from running errands. You plopped onto the couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when footsteps coming down the stairs caught your attention. You looked up.

Satoru.

His white hair was falling into his eyes, loose strands framing his sharp features, and the compression shirt he wore clung to his torso in a way that wasn’t helping your thoughts at all. 

"Oh, hey," he greeted, blinking at you in mild surprise. "You waiting on Ami?"

"Yeah, she said she’s gonna be late, though. Not sure how long."

"Damn." He stretched lazily. "I was about to head to the gym, but they’re closed today." You nodded, pretending to focus on your phone again, even though all you could think about now was him at the gym. Then, his voice broke through your thoughts.

"You wanna come up to my room?" Your head snapped up. He was watching you, eyes unreadable, a small smirk playing on his lips. Your stomach flipped. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at his suggestion, your face turning toward him with a slight pink dusting your cheeks.

“What? Go to your room?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, you said you’d be interested in seeing some of my short films for my college projects. Want me to show you some? Seeing as we both have nothing else to do.” There was a certain teasing lilt to his voice, his sharp eyes taking in your flustered state with amusement.

“Oh.”

Realization struck, and you cursed yourself internally for how obviously thrown off you sounded. Really, it wasn’t your fault—you were a newly minted adult, and your hormones were practically waging war against your common sense. Still, you nodded, standing up alongside him, hyper aware of just how much taller he was. That ever-present smirk never left his face as he led you to his room, clearly entertained by your reaction.

The moment you stepped inside, you realized this was the only space in Ami’s house you hadn’t properly explored. You’d caught glimpses before—grabbing a charger or returning something Ami had borrowed—but never had you taken the time to actually look around. It was surprisingly neat, with the exception of his desk, which was cluttered with scattered papers and notebooks. A few posters lined the walls, his bed was made, and the entire space carried the familiar scent of his cologne.

“You can sit if you’d like. It’ll take me a second to find the files,” he said, gesturing to the bed as he made his way to the desk.

You hesitated before sitting down, instantly taking in just how much stronger the scent of his cologne was here. His bed, his pillows—everything was drenched in it. You briefly considered asking him what brand he used before dismissing the thought as too weird.

As Satoru rummaged through his laptop, you let your eyes drift to his back. The black compression shirt he wore hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric straining slightly each time he moved. You wonder what it would feel like putting your ankles on them while he– stop! Your gaze traveled lower, to his tapered waist, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips—

You shook your head quickly, mentally chastising yourself for where your thoughts were heading. You crossed your legs in an attempt to ground yourself, tugging at the hem of your skirt in the process. As if sensing your discomfort, Satoru glanced back at you before giving you a small, teasing smile.

“M’not gonna bite, you know. You can sit comfortably,” he muttered, his attention half on the laptop.

“I-I know,” you mumbled, shifting slightly.

With that same lazy smirk, he returned his focus to the screen, fingers moving effortlessly across the keyboard. You watched them for a second too long—his hands were large, his nails neatly trimmed, his fingers long and dexterous. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the files he was pulling up rather than imagining sucking on his fingers.

“Aha,” he mumbles. “Found it.”

He clicks on a small folder icon, opening a three-minute video that plays like a cinematic trailer. You watch, both curious and impressed, as the screen fills with warm, golden hues—the entire short film has an almost Sufjan Stevens-esque aesthetic, shot on a beach at sunset. A man with dark long hair with striking amethyst eyes and a stunning woman with short, rust coloured hair (you ignore the tiny pang of jealousy at the fact that she got to work with Satoru) move through the scenes, their story unfolding in quiet gestures and lingering glances.

“The theme was ‘how love is shown through actions rather than words,’” he explains casually, glancing at you.

You look at him, thoroughly impressed. Even in such a short film, the theme is so carefully and beautifully portrayed through small, thoughtful details. You’d always assumed Satoru would lean toward thriller, or perhaps comedy, something packed with action. But this—this careful, deliberate depiction of love through unspoken moments—only deepens your admiration for him.

“I can tell,” you breathe out, taking in the last frames of the trailer. “It’s really beautifully made.”

A small, pleased smile tugs at his lips as he closes his laptop.

“The actors are beautiful, too. It adds to the mood of the film,” you add softly, glancing at him.

Satoru laughs—a smooth, melodic sound that makes your stomach flip.

“Those are two of my best friends. Suguru and Shoko,” he says. “Getting Shoko to agree was the hard part—she’s not into guys, but I knew her face had the exact look I wanted for this. She didn’t mind pretending to be with Suguru, but I did have to bribe her with a pack of cigarettes to make up for it.” He grins, amused at the memory.

You laugh too, feeling a strange sense of relief at his words. So Shoko wasn’t even into Satoru. Not that it should matter, but—well. She was gorgeous. You could admit that much. If you weren’t completely, hopelessly in love with Satoru, you might have tried hitting her up yourself.

He leans back against his pillow, elbow propped up to hold his head, watching you with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. You curse yourself for turning pink under his gaze. Shifting slightly, you fold your legs underneath you, adjusting your skirt as it rides up just a little. His eyes flicker downward, tracking the movement, before darting back up to your face.

You suddenly feel the weight of the atmosphere, hyper aware of the way his presence fills the room. Your gaze flits away, scanning the walls, the desk—anywhere but him.

“Um, I think I should go. Ami’s probably almost h—”

Your words cut off as Satoru’s large, warm hand closes gently around your wrist.

His lips curve into something unreadable, his dark eyes holding yours. “You know,” he murmurs, voice low, “I know about your little crush on me.”

Your stomach drops.

You don’t know whether to go pale or burn up entirely, but it feels like something in between.

“Wh—what?” You barely manage to force out the word. “Who said that? I don’t have a crush on you.”

He gives you a knowing look, rolling his eyes playfully. “C’mon, you think I wouldn’t notice?” He shifts slightly closer, and the warmth of his cologne—sandalwood and something rich you can’t name—fills your senses. “It’s so obvious. How did you think I wouldn’t know?”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with an easy familiarity. You blink at the gesture, suddenly feeling absurdly close to tears.

He notices. His expression softens as he wipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why’re you crying, pretty?” He murmurs.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammer. “I thought—I thought you’d find me weird. Or childish. For having a crush on you.” You fidget with your hands, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, just—just please don’t make fun of me or anything.”

His thumb lingers against your cheek. “I never said I didn’t enjoy your attention.”

Your breath stills.

“I think you’re pretty cute too,” he admits, voice dropping lower. “I’ve thought that for a while now.” His fingers trail to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. “I’ve always been… a little older than you. Always thought you were attractive as hell, but I didn’t want to freak you out about the age thing. Not until I saw one of Ami’s chats with you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you fight the instinct to take it in your mouth.

You shake yourself. Your brain can’t keep up with your body right now.

You look up at him, dazed, hanging onto his every word.

“Always suspected you had a little crush on me,” he muses. “You think I didn’t notice the tiny little tops you wore? How you’d lean in extra close, tits practically brushing against my arm, when asking me for help with math—math you already knew, by the way.” His eyes gleam as he watches you squirm. “Or how you’d reapply that pink lip gloss every time I looked at you?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you think he might hear it.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that slow, amused smirk.

“My suspicions were kinda confirmed when I saw you texting Ami about how sexy you thought I was,” he murmurs, his voice like silk.

Your brain is screaming.

And yet, you don’t move away.

You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment, unable to believe he was telling you all this, too ashamed to look at him. His words ignited desire in you. He had noticed all your futile attempts to seduce him and despite the teasing words, you were getting wetter by the second.

He tutted softly, his eyes flicking to your face with a look that almost seemed amused. Gently, he reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His large hand easily enclosed both of your wrists, holding them firmly but not painfully, as he pinned them softly to your lap.

His gaze remained on you, studying your flushed expression with a small, knowing smile.

“You know what I wanted to do then?” He says, his voice low and teasing, as he leans a little closer, his eyes locked onto yours. The playful gleam in his eyes lingers as he watches you, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips, his tone laced with lust.

“What?” You ask with a faint voice as he leans into you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The proximity makes your heart race, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat as his presence fills the space around you.

“Wanted to fuck you so badly. I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He groans as he pulls back, his oceanic eyes now clouded by desire and lust as he boldly makes eye contact with you, squeezing both your hands in his large grip.

You instinctively reach up to wet your lips, no longer unfamiliar with the warmth of embarrassment after his bold words. Then, surprising even yourself, you do something you never imagined—your heart racing as you rise onto your knees, tilt your head, and press your lips gently against his.

He responds immediately, his hand freeing your wrists as it goes to grip the back of your neck, and the other spayed on your lower back. He kisses you passionately, the kiss itself a clash of teeth and tongue. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth, swirling around yours and completely dominating your mouth as you gladly let him. You feel dizzy when experiencing a kiss like this, pulling back from air, your lips coated in a mixture of both your saliva.

He has a crazed look in his eyes, as he leans in to softly bite your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact with you as he tugs on it slightly, letting it go with a pop. You’re breathing heavily, not only because of the kiss but because of how heavily you’re attracted to him.

Without warning he pushes himself against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs slightly and pulling you on his lap. You let out a small whimper at the way he manhandles you, arching your back and pressing your chest towards his as you both start kissing again. He kisses you like you’re his last meal, his tongue playfully chasing yours as he sucks on it, making you buck your hips against his.

He lets out a low groan at that, and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Eager to hear it again, you grind your crotch onto his again, feeling the hardening imprint of his cock through his sweatpants. He grabs you in place by placing his large hands on your waist, bringing his hips up to rut his cock against your crotch again. At this point your panties are completely soaked. you were already wet just from his confession about you, his smooth voice being able to turn you on embarrassingly quick. They feel uncomfortably wet and you look down, seeing a wet patch forming on his sweatpants.

He humps into you harder, as you try your best to rub down on him, your clit being stimulated by the feeling of his hardened length rubbing against you even through the layers of clothing. Satoru stops his ministrations for a second, looking at you, realising how small you are even while sitting in his lap. his hands travel up your thighs as he lifts your skirt, taking in your absolutely soaked pussy. You bite your lip in both frustration and lust, wanting him to touch you rather than just stare.

“Fuck baby, you’re so eager, huh” he mumbles, distracted by how he can see the shape of your pussy through your panties. You moan, a little embarrassed, pushing your hips up, to signal him to touch you. Teasingly, he runs a long finger through your slit over your soaked panties. You swear you almost cum at his touch, as your body suddenly jolts, your hands grab at his shoulders. He chuckles a little, as he slips his hand in your underwear, his fingers teasingly sliding up and down your labia, gathering your slick. he uses that slick and prods at your puffy clit, causing you to let out a whimper, your hands grabbing tightly at his shoulders as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“So shy.. fuck I wanna see if you can come on my fingers alone. Y’r so wet, You like it messy?” He breathes out his words, his voice like honey, his fingers setting a brutal pace against your clit as you succumb to the pleasure, not even getting embarrassed at the fact that you’re basically riding his hand. with no warning his middle finger slides into you gently, as you gasp at the intrusion. However your clit is never left neglected, as his thumb immediately goes back to rubbing and flicking it, making you bite and kiss his neck in order to somehow relieve yourself of the torturous pleasure you’re experiencing.

“F-fuck,” you mutter, leaning back to look at Satoru in the eyes, biting your lip. “I think- I think ‘m close Satoru.” You close your eyes as he watches your face intently, his gaze boring into you as you twist your face into one of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a coil in your stomach snap as you feel yourself release all over his fingers, your breaths coming out fast and shaky. with one last flick to your clit, he grins smugly.

Clumsily, you climb off his lap, kneeling off the bed, hands reaching the waistband of his sweatpants. his brow furrows as he tsks cutely. “Let me take care of you baby, don’t you wanna feel good?” He asks as you shake your head, still flushed from your orgasm.

“No. wanna make you feel good too Satoru.” You say, as he throws his head back in a groan, getting painfully hard at just your words. “Fuck. okay. you’ve done this before?” He asks, as you nod your head. “Once, but I.. I don't know if I'm good at it.. I mean he came.. so..” You admit, looking at him, playing with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Shit, you have such a pretty mouth, I'm sure it’ll be good. I’ll teach you, baby” he says, caressing your face, setting his legs at the edge of the bed, as you get down on the floor between his spread legs, looking up at him.

You quickly discard your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Ironically, you chose to wear a lace one today as all your other ones were in the wash. Satoru smirks at your cute, lacy pink bra, snapping the strap against your skin as he looks down at you, analysing both your face and your supple tits. You nimbly take off his pants, gulping at the tent in his boxers. Timidly you run a hand over his clothed cock, and you see a wet spot starting to form. He gasps at the feeling of your hand caressing him, and you pull down his boxers with a gasp.

It's big. it’s really big, is all you’re thinking. It slaps against his stomach, tall and proud, the tip a flushed pink colour, already starting to dribble pre-cum. His base is trimmed, and you almost salivate when you see how it connects to his happy trail, the tantalising white trail peeking out at the end of his compression shirt. You have no idea how you’re gonna fit it inside of your mouth.

You gingerly grab it, your mouth reaching out to kitten lick the tip. Slowly you take the tip in your mouth, suckling on it, as you start to make your way down. He starts moaning when you pay attention to the tip, and you bob your head up and down his shaft, feeling a small sense of success when you hear him downright whimper, and you feel slick slide out of you again. You eagerly bob your head up and down, not being able to take all of him in because he’s so big, spit is coating your chin and dripping on his dick, your hands pumping the remaining part of the shaft that won’t fit in your mouth. You’re gagging and he’s grabbing your hair to roughly lift it up and then thrusting his cock back in your mouth, and you let out a moan, pressing your thighs together at the rough way that he handles you.

“Fu-fuck, you’re taking it so well. shit- ah!” He moans out louder and you look up at him with teary eyes, hollowing your cheeks. A few more thrusts and suddenly he pulls you off, his face flushed.

You whine, wanting him to cum in your mouth. he coos up at your needy reaction. He pulls you onto his lap, his face flushed and red. “You’re on birth control right?” He pants recalling when he had overheard you telling Ami that you’d need to leave their house soon to stop by the store to get some birth control before they closed. You nod and he gives you a happy grin, his canines peeking through. 

“Need to cum inside of you.” He whispers in your ear and you nod eagerly, wiping off the spit on your chin with the back of your hand.

His hands travel up your skirt and pull your basically ruined panties off as you sign a breath of relief, the cold hair hitting your pussy. You’re left in a bra and a skirt and you quickly unclasp your bra and Satoru pushes off your skirt. you’re left completely naked and Satoru still has his shirt on.

“Hey, take your shirt off too!” You whine and he laughs, pulling off his shirt in one swift go and kicking his sweats and boxers that were both pooling at his ankles. Immediately your hands run down the hard planes of chest, feeling his rippling muscles, your hands scratching at his abs. He shudders at that as he buries his face in your tits, licking and kissing them in a way which has you arching them in his face.

He sets you down on the bed as he grabs his stiff cock, running it up and down your pussy. It touches your clit, which is still sensitive after your previous orgasm, and you let out a little whimper.

“Satoru, stop staring at it like that..” You mumble shyly, as Satoru’s eyes are completely focused on how your pussy is clenching, wanting nothing more than his teasing cock inside.

“Your pussy? S’not my fault it’s so fuckin pretty. Wanna taste it next time.” He mumbles and you flush at his crude words, moaning and bucking your hips as he prods his dick at your entrance.

You close your legs at the intrusion as he slips the tip inside, hissing at the slight burn as he stretches you out. He pries apart your knees with his huge hands, spreading out your pussy to him and you grab the sheets, writhing. He enters you slowly, pulsing inside of you, and suddenly the pain melts into pleasure.

“You can-you can put it fully in now.” You signal and he immediately fills you up, staying still so you can get used to the size. “M-move. Fuck. Please, Satoru, move!” You whimper and he starts thrusting into you, at a deep yet slow pace that has you seeing stars. He kisses you, swallowing your moans as he peppers his kisses down to your neck, sucking and kissing, which you’re sure is gonna leave marks but you’re feeling too good to care at the moment.

Satoru starts whimpering, relishing each time he slides into your warm, gummy walls. “You’re so tight, your pussy is literally suckin’ me in. Shit you’re so gorgeous” he breathes out, watching down at where your bodies are meeting, getting turned on by the lewd slapping sounds filling his room. Your eyes roll back in response, you’re too fucked out to respond. He grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest as you squeal, his cock now drilling into you at a deeper angle. He keeps hitting the right spot each time and you swear that with a few more thrusts you’ll cum again.

“Ah, I'm so close. You sure I can cum inside this tight little hole?” he says, looking you in the eye, as you nod eagerly. “Please, please cum in me. I need it inside of me!” You start incessantly babbling as he chuckles. Thoughts of him fucking a baby into you take over you and you wonder what it would feel like having him cum in you without any birth control.

He grabs your tits, squeezing them harshly, rolling your nipples in your hands, fucking into you at an almost animalistic pace as he is trying to reach his high. You feel that familiar bond in your stomach, as its warmth is threatening to spread all over your body.

“Sa– Satoru!! I’m gonna cum, I’m-“ You start writhing as he moves his hands to hold your hips down, his thrusts becoming sloppier. He reaches down to kiss you messily, biting your bottom lip as you moan into his mouth.

He suddenly stills, filling you to the hilt, breathing heavily as you feel him release hot spurts of cum in you. The thick ropes of his seed paint your walls, suddenly fucking into you harder, even though he’s sensitive after his orgasm, a hand reaching down to play with your clit to help you cum too.

You feel the bond snap as you cum all over his cock, arching your back and grabbing the sheets, your breaths coming out in pants as you lock eyes with Satoru. His hair is falling onto his slightly sweaty forehead, and he’s breathing heavily, as he pulls out. A mixture of both your fluids come out, and he quickly goes to the bathroom and grabs a small cloth, wiping you down and cleaning you.

“You okay? Need me to run a bath?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. You shake your head tiredly, lifting your arms toward him.

“Can you hold me?” Your heart pounds as you meet his gaze, and he smiles down at you—soft, reassuring.

“Of course I can, baby,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck as his fingers stroke through your hair, his warmth melting away the last traces of exhaustion. He tugs the blankets over both of you, his steady breathing lulling you into a peaceful haze.

Within minutes, sleep claims you both, wrapped in each other’s embrace—completely unaware of the door creaking open downstairs.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

You creep down the stairs quietly, Satoru’s hand warm in yours. The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the living room. After last night, you had called your parents, telling them you were staying over at Ami’s—though you left out a few details.

Both of you are still giggling when Ami suddenly pops out of the kitchen, wielding a spatula like a weapon.

“You guys need to be more quiet. Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard you,” she grumbles, smacking Satoru’s shoulder with the spatula.

“Ow—why are you hitting me? She was the one making all the noise,” he teases, nudging you with a smirk.

You groan, burying your face in your free hand as Ami winces.

“I did not need to know that. At all.” She glares at him before her eyes narrow suspiciously. “So… are you two, like, dating now or something?”

You tense, looking away but still holding Satoru’s hand. Truthfully, you have no idea where you stand with him.

“If she’d let me, sure,” he says softly, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

You whip your head around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

Ami rolls her eyes. “Whatever. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.” With that, she turns and disappears back into the kitchen.

Satoru chuckles, leading you toward his car to drop you back home. As he unlocks the door, he looks at you, a playful glint in his eye.

“So… what do you say? Wanna go on a date with me?”

hiiii writing is so fun omg i have so many ideas and so much freetime i think i'm gonna write about nerdjo next :3

[maximaxstreasurebox]

Adding to this;

I feel like the reason he's more shocked about the revelation is not that Master tried to help him, but how far he went for it. He made the cure behind the power players' back, even Kirishima, his 'assistant' didn't know how personal that drug was. It's one of those moments when I can't help but really think how Harumasa took over a lot of Master's uh characteristics. Master's 'i might just retire' comment, his beliefs, his opinion of higher-ups, his headband, his teachings, and his determination to go through hell for a better future... Harumasa carries all these traits in the present, he was influenced by Master as a child by its parents.

So yeah, it's not about the intent, but Master's determination to sacrifice himself for HIM. He did all this for Harumasa. He was not just a coward who took pity on a sick kid and tried his best to atone, but took the risk, knowing he's in trouble if anyone finds out about the cure. It can be interpreted that he's somewhat religious as he mentions gods in his rant to smol Haru, he was someone who had intentions but was blinded by promises he later payed the price for. He was not the best person, but he had gained back his footing and common senses once he met smol Haru.

Now think about what Harumasa might have felt; his only prominent parental figure in his life gave his for another, for him... Made a cure specifically for Haru, and also the first step for the bigger problem (EARS lol). He was conflicted about his Master for years because he didn't know his true intentions, Master was gone one day just like his bio-parents. It's before he gets the phonecall about the cure when says that both good and bad coexisted in those moments he spent time with Master... And then he gets the call, confirming it was true but not in the black n white way he thought it was. He wasn't there to hurt him, but wasn't there to save him. He was there for possibilities that later turned into sacrifice, not for the power players... But for him.

I need someone to write about how Harumasa probably crashed out after learning his master saved him (again), like there's no way hes not feeling like sht after the rooftop scene-

Imagine- hes so conflicted and confused, takes a moment to process silently, coming to a logical conclusion that yeah his master was not the best guy, staying calm with the proxy around... but then few hours later back in his room, he just.. breaks, emotionally, he thought he was a goner but master gave him a chance again, even beyond death.... no matter what master was tasked to do originally, he still chose to later go against it and try to cure him. Even if Haru doesn't fear death, the fact that he's not going out as a monster that haunts his dreams... Man 🧍

[deuxadeux-if]

heyyyyyyyy

hi omg. sorry i have been literally radio silent eeeerk. first and foremost thank all of you who messaged me to let me know about dashingdon shutting down. i haven’t logged in here in a hot minute, and it surprised me how many of you reached out. thank you :,)

bullet points on ray’s life:

graduated college! i now have a bachelor’s degree.

work is going fine! i am a full-time bartender. it’s fine, not a permanent fit for me probably but it’s okay for now.

i miss writing, but i don’t have much time to commit to it. i haven’t written anything in two (maybe even three?) months. this is partially because i’m trying to take a break to do other creative things, and partly because i love writing full-time. i’m not sure how to move forward writing in spare moments—the thought of doing that makes me a little sad. as such, i am avoiding it for the moment. lol.

my birthday is in a little less than 2 months. i will be 23! it is weird. i still feel like a teenager sometimes. sometimes even younger.

since i’m not writing at the moment, i spend my free time drawing, reading, and listening to albums. i also go on walks in the woods with my boyfriend when we’re both off work.

now about dashingdon. i thought about it quite a bit for the past week or two, and i don’t think i will be returning to deux à deux for the foreseeable future. i haven’t deleted any of my files, so it’s all there if i want to return to it at any point—but i think it will be a while before i even consider picking it back up again. a few reasons for this:

i need a much, much more concrete outline for the rest of the story, and as of right now, i don’t know what that would look like.

i don’t have much free time, and i have very little money. it feels best for me, at least right now, to fill my spare minutes with hobbies that are private to keep my sanity intact lol.

i want to spend 2025 thinking about writing more than actually writing. i have done a lot of speed-writing, just putting words to the page and blazing through—it feels like a good time to practice other skills. like sitting…thinking…stewing. i think this will help in the long run.

deux à deux needs to be consolidated. i think there only need to be 4 love interests, max, and i need to solidify exactly what parts of MC are set in stone (personality? gender? age? etc.)*

this is embarrassing but it’s fine. i need a better backbone when it comes to making stuff. i tend to accept all critique as essential. this is one way to go about creating things, but i don’t think it’s how i want to. i would prefer to make stuff that i just like, exactly how i want to make it. whatever response it garners is just how it is. i need to cultivate that vibe before putting deux à deux out there again.

*i doubt i would ever make MC genderlocked for deux à deux, though. not really my vibe.

so! since i’m not going to be writing deux à deux for i-don’t-know-how-long, i will not be transferring it over to the other site (i forget what it’s called) that is replacing dashingdon. i’m sorry if this is horrible news—i was pretty committed, initially, to writing all of deux à deux within the year once i started. then i graduated college and realized that (unfortunately) money was real and i had literally none of it and no real income. so, for now, real work it is—writing will happen when it’s a good time, but i’m not rushing it.

sorry again for the unfortunate update, but i figured it would be better to be straightforward. thanks again to all of you who reached out, it was really sweet to see all of your messages :,)

hope to see you all again soon.

— ray

[fascinationstreetmp3]

What if...what if past dm didn't happen. How do you see it playing out? And actually give your two cents about danlou too plz. Cause sometimes I think he is the devil ( angel) to Daniel's minion. Idk if that makes sense?

admittedly it sometimes is difficult for me to shut off my "past dm definitely happened" thinking because im just so certain there are too many hints that it did LOL but...

for armand, there's this boy he wrote off in 1973, who he maybe genuinely couldn't find anything "fascinating" or extraordinary about, who he has perhaps been underestimating this whole time in 2022— i could see him realising that now daniel is truly sharp-minded and ruthless, with none of the attempts to knock him off balance really working, and he's figured out so much in such a short space of time and ultimately gotten the truth (and a little revenge) he was after in the end. there's something very intriguing in that, despite the anger he feels that daniel took everything from him.

maybe turning him could feel like a punishment to armand (even though i think daniel did want to be a vampire by that point, armand might not realise that. and it could also be a form of punishment for louis, taking away daniel's humanity in a perversion of letting him live for louis in 1973), but maybe it's also subconsciously a way of keeping around someone who has figured him out and seen him so quickly, even if that is something he runs from.

for daniel, i think everything that went down in dubai sort of "woke him up." when we first see him, he looks bored, tired, and lonely. he barely talks to his family, only enough for them to know he's sick, and he's teaching internet classes now. the pandemic has kept him away from the world but it also feels like the passion has seeped out of him long before that. at this point he's expecting to die someday soon and leave his daughters some cash. being invited for a second interview with louis doesn't immediately break him out of that mindset; it's invigorated him some by the end of the first season, but once there's an even bigger mystery to crack after armand reveals himself, that's when he really starts enjoying himself.

by the end of season 2, daniel is so far in it he doesn't want it to stop, chasing a high. and for that reason, even if the turning was "spiteful" on armand's part, i think daniel would've wanted to be turned either way. just like daniel in the books, he can't go back to an ordinary life and function normally or sit around waiting to die after being so involved in this world. armand gives it to him in some form— but daniel wants more, he wants answers and a story from armand, he wants to crack the truth about him and figure out "where the bullshit starts." so he chases after him when armand leaves, and it turns into an inverse of their original chase in the books:

the highlighted lines could actually actually work in reverse in this scenario too— daniel wants to know what makes armand so fascinating, wants to know what and who he really is. even down to daniel himself not being able to move about by day now when armand can. and as the chase goes on, they learn more about one another, becoming drawn to each other despite the animosity between them.

as for the second part of your question, do you mean danlou kind of acting as the show's version of devil's minion? or their relationship being more similar to what armand and daniel's is in the books? i see danlou as something unique, and especially if there was any kind of past dm, i don't know that louis would be directly involved— in the sense that i believe he wouldn't be happy to fuck with this kid's life even further than he already did, with the "think of me as god or an angel" speech he gave trying to set daniel free from everything he'd seen and heard from armand. even if louis doesn't really care as much about humanity in general as he sometimes claims, daniel is a symbol of something to louis, proof he can still do good.

whereas with armand, no matter what love was there, dm is ultimately about keeping daniel embroiled in that life. armand shares his blood and lets daniel get addicted to it, and it slowly breaks daniel apart until he's losing his mind.

like you said, louis is more the "angel" where armand's the "devil." in a past dm scenario i actually think it's possible the words louis speaks to daniel in 1973 could be something that helps daniel towards the end of his relationship with armand in the 80s ("if things ever get bad again," "these words will hold you up and carry you; they are your lifeline") and could be what led to him finally breaking free of armand and maybe asking to be "let go" if he really won't ever turn him.

but to me whether past dm happened or not, danlou is about daniel being the first person in a long time to listen to louis both in 1973 and 2022, louis changing and saving daniel's life in a way no one else ever did, and daniel coming back 50 years later and eventually returning the favour. they're both fathers to daughters, they've both repressed themselves in various ways, they've both had their memories messed with by armand.

they're the vampire and the interviewer who kick off the whole story being told, and i think the show portrays that very well, keeping them (and hopefully their relationship) relevant going forward and expanding on their relationship with each other in a way the books never did, and not really borrowing any dynamic from dm or anyone else. armand of course hangs over them both, the same way louis hangs over dm, the same way daniel factors into loumand in 1973 and 2022, and they're all important to each other for different reasons.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

medialog january 2k25

books

ling ma, severance - first book of the year an unfortunate dud! the most notable thing about this book is that it’s a pandemic story published in 2018, but this is also true of carmen maria machado’s “inventory” which is a much better story at like 15% of the length. by chance literally the day after i started reading this brandon taylor sent out a newsletter talking about first person narration devoid of interiority, which allowed me to be like, yes, that! that’s what’s so fucking annoying about this! a first person narrative that feels like a list of stuff that happened, instead of a glimpse into someone else’s consciousness. and i knooooow people would say that’s the poiiiint because the book is reeeeally about late capitalist anomie or whatever, which would also be used to explain the fact that the narrator has no personality or emotional life, like she’s just so disaffected and detached and blah blah blah, but the theoretical justification for this mode doesn’t have any bearing on the visceral fact that i just at no point cared about anyone in this story, because it’s impossible to care about a narrator who doesn’t care about anything or act like a human being (a species that famously cares about things lol). might also be impossible to care about a narrator with a trust fund… open to having my mind changed on this one though. other complaints: prose clunky, nobody else in this book has a personality either, palpably convinced of its own interest and importance in a way that feels very Litfic Does Genre Trope Without Wondering If Any Genre Writers Have Thought About This At All Ever (zombies as capitalist metaphor is like... even i know that and i hate zombie shit!) the pandemic stuff closest to being interesting but the page count is unforgivably focused on 1 million backstory flashback chapters totally divorced from the present day because god forbid someone who wants to tell an immigrant narrative figure out a way to somehow integrate this into the actual plot of their book or otherwise develop a character through scene and action… truly this reads like someone was trying to write an autobiographical novel and realized they couldn’t make it interesting/saleable so they chucked a pandemic narrative at it to capitalize on the twenty-first century genre turn. i don’t know if that’s what happened… but that is how poorly the disparate threads are woven together.

miranda popkey, topics of conversation - really liked this! like it more the more i sit with it. i had it already and it happens to get mentioned in that taylor newsletter i mentioned as being a different kind of first-person narrator, so i read it figuring at least it wouldn’t annoy me in the same way as severance. i was a little skeptical at first for two reasons: (1) the book is told through a series of conversations across a long span of years, which i was worried was a cheat to avoid having a plot; (2) early on lots of women and sex and power stuff, which is dangerous territory re: potential to irritate me. but it won me over on the second point quickly by undercutting what it had seemed to be doing in a refreshing way near the end of the first chapter, and by the end i was ready to concede point (1) because it had done a very good job of telling a story beneath the story it was telling; more than once i was kind of rolling my eyes like, okay, but, really?, only to find a little while later the book addressing precisely what had been my concern, which made me feel like i had been pleasantly tricked. the prose is unshowy but very self-assured with a good ear, and a few lines/passages burrowed under my skin. the narrator is self-critical without being self-indulgent… idk, it threaded a number of needles very well. impressed and pleased.

myriam gurba, mean - another one i started out wobbly on and wound up liking a lot. in this case, the cover/what i’d heard led me to expect a different, darker, tone than i found, and i wasn’t sure i was on board; funnily enough, at one point i thought, disparagingly, “eh, kinda zine-y,” and then something clicked and i remembered wait, i like zine-y, and that let me recalibrate and get sucked in. mean is a memoir, more or less, opening with a description of a rape-murder in gurba’s hometown and then switching gears to become a coming-of-age story in vignettes, with the reason for the opening scene eventually coming clear in a way that made me really admire what the book was doing formally as a way to talk about sexual assault; i was also reminded of the absolutely true diary of a part-time indian, a book i loved, both for its form and for, to some extent, its tone, or its willingness to combine a light touch and a sense of humor with some dark-ass material (although mean is not YA and goes much darker in both content and expression) & often incisive racial commentary. gurba is a really playful, funny, curious writer, and while i think she could have killed a few darlings, by the end her voice had really won me over. she is not opposed to pushing hard on the bounds of good taste, and i would say that most of the time i was with her because she was either honestly capturing the sociopathic awfulness of teenagers, including her own teenage self (people who self-righteously respond “well i actually never laughed at XYZ in high school…” this book is not for you and also you are annoying, and i say this as someone known in high school as a bit of a PC scold myself!), or else, for example, making jokes about her own sexual assault or other issues, and then there were some times where, like… ok maybe an illustrative example is that i saw a goodreads review that was like “i was loving this book until she used touretted as a verb, my condition is not a cute joke,” and i was like, on the one hand, i get it, but on the other hand, the prison rape joke didn’t phase you? the holocaust joke? (holocaust joke distinct from the chapter about how reading the diary of anne frank made her horny btw.) so… on that score tolerance will reasonably vary lol. given that a fair amount of the back half of the book is in fact about the aftermath of sexual assault, i really admired how the book refused any kind of redemptive arc, landing on a brutal note, but also avoided feeling oppressively downbeat by virtue of the ferocity of its own telling, which stands as its own proof of survival.

elaine castillo, how to read now: essays - not for me. none of the ideas here felt new if you’ve ever spent more than five minutes considering the relationship between art, race, & politics, and i didn’t feel like they were ever explored at a depth beyond (or… even equal to?) that which i would find on a random tuesday scrolling my tumblr dash. elegance of expression can be its own justification but stylistically this book mostly just convinced me that books are not blogs and should not sound like the internet; the lack of discipline which can be a feature in internet writing (not always! but can be) is always a bug in print (or, at least, i haven’t encountered the book to convince me otherwise). i was excited that the title of the first essay was “reading teaches empathy and other fictions” but then instead of unpacking the cultural ideology that associates any kind of moral education with leisure pursuits at all it was mostly about how the white straight male story is granted universality but others are not, which… you perhaps see what i mean about how this will not be revelatory for those of us enrolled in the continuing ed program at supernatural dot edu slash tumblr dot html. there’s a weird essay about going to new zealand and being like “wow imagine if native relationships were this good in the US?” which i found weirdly uncomfortable to read from an american who by her own admission is not well-versed in that region’s history. she opens an essay by being like “i know it’s basically boring to talk about how you hate joan didion” and then spends 45 pages doing that (including what i think is a misread of at least the tone of didion’s comment that writing is the act of a bully - i’m not a didionhead and would never defend her famously terrible politics, but a) she is i think pretty clearly being both hyperbolic and self-deprecating b) castillo takes this as the chance to be like “well i write to be vulnerable and connect,” which… perhaps this is self-indulgent self-deprecation on my own part but i have an instinctive and strong aversion to writers hyping up their own reasons for writing, lol c) this is objectively not a stance exclusive to white ladies bc zadie smith once said essentially the same thing except i think she used the word sociopathic lol)... and then in the end notes of that chapter she drops a casual rec for the “excellent” show our flag means death which… girl, be serious… you’re gonna write 300 pages about the dangers of reading without context and then simp for the slaveholder RPF show with no commentary whatsoever? it’s fine to like that show btw i might watch it myself one of these days but it’s just deranged to drop this without qualifiers in a book allegedly against the act of eliding historical reality for the sake of aesthetic pleasure and comforting fantasy! she also does two things that are unfortunately guaranteed to make me, personally, insane (characterizing damon lindelof’s HBO watchmen as an important statement on race in america and being kinda wrong about the odyssey) which i will address below the cut at the bottom of this post because i understand that my own need to talk about them is the result of my bad personality and also this is long enough already.

movies

no - this is a 2012 movie about the plebiscite vote that ended the pinochet reign, starring gael garcia bernal as the young ad guy the leftists rope in to helping them make the best use of their allotted 15 minutes of TV time. i really loved this, for a few reasons. first, an interestingly and well-made movie; the director is the guy who did spencer, which i hated, and i don’t know if it’s a matter of directing in spanish or what but it felt like two totally different worlds. second, some extremely funny and perhaps broadly relevant commentary on the purity-strategy tension in leftist spaces; i particularly loved the scene where our protagonist unveils the logo and the leftists are like, “oh, and the different colors of the rainbow represent the factions of the leftist coalition coming together, right?” and he’s like “uh huh. yeah. totes.” third, there’s a matter-of-factness to the way the movie depicts living in a military dictatorship — depicts oppression, depicts military violence against civilians — that felt refreshing and, ummm…. very un-American. perhaps very latin american. but certainly very un-American. something really fucked up happens and it feels bad and then you go home and play trains with your kid and you maybe don’t expect that everyone is spending 8 hours a day wringing your hands about How Is Anyone To Live Now. fortuitous timing for me personally maybe to watch this on new year’s day 2025. also gael garcia bernal is always the only guy in the scene wearing jeans and rides his skateboard everywhere. strong rec.

the shop around the corner - the philadelphia story baby jimmy stewart pilled me so bad that when i learned this both starred baby jimmy stewart and was directed by ernst lubitsch i was like, wow i GOTTA see that. two coworkers hate each other while falling for the anonymous correspondents that are, of course, each other all along… this does a couple things that mitigate the screwball romcom gender politics problem, my favorite of which is introducing the female lead in a scene that highlights her smarts and competence, which is important in a love story about a meeting of the minds. has superb production design, lighting so good even i was like “wow the lighting,” a great ensemble cast given a good amount to do in a way that makes the whole movie feel really suffused with tenderness and care even amidst all the screwball prickliness, and most importantly some incredibly funny jokes.

one way or another (todo modo) - this is a really weird italian 70s thriller whose plot is largely incomprehensible if you are not conversant in italian party politics of the 70s, which i am not, but it was still worth watching for the unbelievable Catholicism Is So Fucked Up vibes… the whole movie takes place in a catholic spirituality retreat packed with power-players, largely underground in the spookiest ass rooms imaginable… there’s a ruthless priest and a million political freaks… and then people start dying… kinda conclave meets and then there were none meets glass onion? tbh sassier and bitchier and more honest about institutional catholicism than conclave!

a complete unknown - most of the non-singing parts of this movie are Fine, I Guess, If You Like Biopics; some are pretty bad (why does this movie hate alan lomax so much… to say nothing of the women, through no fault of the two actresses doing their damned best…). the cast is reliably good, i was worried at first timmy was going to be giving SNL sketch the whole time but something shifted and he won me over and i thought he was good and especially that he was very funny in the too-rare moments the movie found itself a sense of humor, mostly on the topic of bob dylan being a weird freak pathological liar with no social skills or interest in developing them (valid and should have taken up way more of the runtime than it did!!!). lots of people have complained about how much of this movie is just watching bob dylan write down lines while playing his guitar but i actually think this is even worse than people are saying because what it does is almost entirely obscure dylan’s voracious cultural appetite and eclectic influences, which is a huge part of what makes him the artist of he is, and which he himself is the first to own (chronicles volume 1 — of 1 lmao — is in my memory almost entirely dylan talking about what he was reading and listening to and watching as a young person). however the reality is that none of this really matters to the viewing experience of the movie because the movie smartly understands it’s not going to be better at making a movie than bob dylan is at making songs, so it just never makes you wait very long before the next time bob dylan is playing a bob dylan song, and if you are a certain kind of person for whom the music of bob dylan has a certain kind of effect — which i am — what happens is that the opening notes of one of the best songs in american music history starts up and all cares over “screenwriting” and “gender” and such things fall away and you just sit there in a haze so grateful to live in a world where bob dylan gave us “girl from north country.” also, credit where credit is due: the movie looks very good, in a very standard hollywood way but well that’s a dying art it seems. i liked all the lens flares in the night scenes! they were pretty and evocative without being distracting!

juror #2 - i love watching a movie about people talking about a process while i wash dishes. bonus points for this one because of my wrongful convictions thing — i found it genuinely a relief to watch a courtroom drama in which we know the whole time that the logic of the court seems persuasive to many people but is wholly wrong. nicholas hoult!

jay and silent bob reboot - this is an objectively pretty bad and at times genuinely offensive movie that made me laugh so, so much. im sorry

presence - i was absolutely never not going to love a soderbergh ghost story; i like that it’s less a horror movie and more a family drama from the perspective of the ghost, and i like that steven soderbergh, who i first started feeling interested in because of how unusually willing he is (among our A-tier dude directors) to view women as potential protagonists, made a movie largely about a sad lonely teenage girl. camera work on the ghost POV very cool and for me very effective. a tight 85 minutes! they shot it in 11 days! i love you steven!

nosferatu - already said this was a miss for me, and the more i think about it the more i feel reasonably sure that it would have been even if i were not so dracula-pilled… idk. i agree with my anon who called it cold. there’s a fundamental distance between the storyteller and the story that, again, was part of what i enjoyed about the lighthouse, but just doesn’t work for me with a more traditional, more visceral (in multiple senses) tale. similarly to the line about how there can’t be an anti war war movie, because you can’t portray combat without glorifying it, i sorta feel like maybe you can’t tell a story where you want credit for giving your abused and disbelieved female protagonist agency and also have multiple scenes that are like, “ok now do the crazy possessed horror chick thing” lol. i also thought it looked kinda bad in parts and really muddy in all the moonlight scenes but i did see one review on lbxd that was basically like “this movie only looks good in IMAX bc regular theaters can’t get the blacks deep enough” so… maybe that’s true. on the bright side: nicholas hoult!

music

kendrick lamar, gnx - this thing happens to me often with music where anything presented as A Big Deal i have a hard time listening to because i keep being like no it’s not the right time… this is why for example i have never listened to a mitski album and also why until now i had never heard kendrick outside of his features with taylor (bad, not his fault) and the lonely island (p. good) and, ofc, not like us. but “squabble up” came up at the singles jukebox and i got really into one of the slant-rhyme runs near the end and the general personality of his flow so i decided to check out the album and would you believe? kendrick lamar, good at rapping. i like how this album is like kind of about having a god complex and sort of knowing you’re being crazy but also what if actually you kind of mean it? (people get mad if you say this kind of thing so don’t tell anyone but it’s actually similar to the pose i enjoy taylor striking on some of the wilder moments on TTPD, lol.)

girl pusher, gaslight gatekeep girlpusher - 20 minutes of very of-the-moment hardcore-adjacent punk, mostly too hardcore for me (literally, i don’t like music that’s all screamy) but the 3 songs that aren’t are real bangers.

ghoulies, shafted by the algorithm - 20 minutes of bright synthy punk where i have no idea what anyone is saying, kind of like matt and kim with less abrasive vocals? (remember matt & kim??? no? bc i’m old? well ok). not an album i’ll return you but i liked the vibe enough to chuck the whole thing onto my 2k25 rolling faves list and have been enjoying the occasional 2-minute infusions of pep!

underscores, wallsocket (director’s cut) - really impressed by this one, and also really enjoyed it. i keep seeing people call underscores hyperpop but either their earlier work (which i haven’t heard) is very different or i just don’t actually know what hyperpop is (very possible). to me it’s giving aughts indie, maybe a little emo but like the bright eyes kind, it’s giving saddle creek but made by a kesha fan. (does anyone else feel like we’re really in a post-kesha era in a way that is not being appreciated…) catchy, inventive, varied but cohesive, angry and funny, political & personal in the lyrics, sometimes at the same time. there’s a song called “johnny johnny johnny” which is an incredible banger about being groomed by an internet predator in middle school that really blew me away; would also rec “cops and robbers” just because it slaps. but even the quiet songs are good!

rosie gray, louder, please - flawless and sometimes even kind of interesting (although never that interesting) dance-infused pop (pop-infused dance? i think the first one but i’m no expert). pretty, fun, sometimes endearingly unsubtle — there’s a song literally called “party people” and another one where the refrain is “the best things in life are free,” also one called “switch” that rhymes “positions” with “submission.” dumb but thoughtfully and expensively so (or so it sounds, which is what counts). the way that people talk about feeling when they watch influencers swanning poolside in ibiza or whatever, that’s what listening to this album makes me feel like. vicarious luxury and all i need is a pair of headphones. another one where i don’t anticipate returning to the album as an album much but i rarely hit skip when a track shuffles my way.

zora, BELLAdonna - yoooooo this album FUCKS, like, SEVERELY!!!!!! saw someone rec this saying it was framed as a black trans revenge fantasy, which, i’ll be honest, turned out to have absolutely no bearing my listening experience whatsoever, but i am dutifully repeating because maybe you, too, will be intrigued enough to listen, and then discover that this album has BOPS. i am not really up to the task of describing this one — rap/hip-hop forward but with glimpses of both r&b and a pop (maybe even hyperpop?) sensibility, obviously broad in its influences (there are at least two likely refs to bodak yellow lol) while sounding like the clear work of a distinct voice, retro and futuristic by turns or sometimes at the same time. sounds really really cool and really really fun. sick flow, sick beats, a song called “sick sex”... strong strong overall rec here, this album rules.

single of the year so far is "IT girl" by jade (from little mix!!!) btw. if you care. really delivering on always low-key being the most interesting of the quartet in what she's put out so far, not all of it is my thing but she has a Vision and IT girl is a certified bop... really curious about where she goes next.

okay so petty grudge-holding below the cut:

first, the watchmen thing. to start with, she drops in the intro that she admires HBO watchmen, and like, did this alone make me read the entire book less generously than i otherwise might have? entirely possible. that is me owning my positionality as a reader. anyway. mostly here i just want to say that she specifically discusses the fucking 1922 movie about a black hero saving a grateful white crowd that made me the joker and drops that the name of the hero is “historically accurate” because he’s named for the first black marshal in oklahoma or whatever, which, ok. cute, i guess, if i didn’t hate this. what i hate, and what is not historically accurate, is: the existence of a film in 1922 (7 years after birth of a nation!!!!!) with a portrayal of american race relations that looks anything at all like the one in this movie. i mean it’s just crazy. and i find it first of all just inane because if you’re capable of writing this scene and thinking it feels plausible, you by definition do not have a good handle on the history of antiblack racism in america or how deeply it has resided at the core of american popular culture (among other things), and second of all genuinely kind of offensive because of the smash cut to Real Historical Atrocity that follows, underscoring the alleged “realism” of the scene. and it is insane to me to praise this scene for its “historically accurate” detail in a book, again, largely about the importance of bringing an understanding of historical context to your reading. it makes the author look a little bit like she only means that for stuff she already happens to know about or saw someone else talk about online. lol.

also the essay starts out being like “another day another jkr twitter meltdown” which does not help with the sense that these essays were blog posts that did not get sufficiently cleaned up for publication (is that true? idk. it’s how it reads though!). and it’s called “the limits of white fantasy” (but then is largely about how HBO watchmen is good lmao) and has a thing like “well rightwing types can appropriate symbols from harry potter and the hunger games and wherever else because those authors never cared about oppression they were just interested in its trappings.” first of all, leave my girl suzanne collins, cashing her checks blissfully offline, out of this. but second of all i actually think this is a substantively wrong diagnosis. jkr very, very, very obviously and sincerely cares about oppression. she is just catastrophically wrong about who is oppressing whom! but it’s extremely clear she thinks of herself as an actual victim of the actual injustice (in her head) of the woke trans mob or whatever. ditto antivaxxers using hunger games cues or whatever. they sincerely believe their rights are being infringed upon. sometimes people are actually wrong! sometimes people care a lot about morality and justice and are wrong about what those things are! i think this is in general harder for people to contend with than the idea that anyone engaging in such wack behavior just “doesn’t care”... but it is true. writing this out makes me think i undersold the insight potential value-add of naomi klein’s doppelganger, because she’s actually really good about recognizing that while these movements involve a lot of sociopath grifters at the top, the footsoldiers are people responding to ways they do in fact feel victimized (and sometimes actually are, e.g. i literally can’t remember if klein talks about this or not although i think probably yes but a lot of people in the alt-wellness/medicine space got there as a result of terrible experiences with healthcare that failed to address their physical and emotional needs).

ok also AND one last thing about this essay, she really gives the impression that she thinks damon lindelof is like the first person ever in history to politicize the figure of the vigilante/superhero… lmao? she praises the show for being about how actually community is necessary and justice can’t be done solo, which, first of all, just gonna throw this out there, there are ways to tell that story without being like truly the most police brutality apologia nonsense i have ever seen, and secondly, this is literally thematically expressed quite poignantly in alan moore & dave gibbons’ comic limited series watchmen in the scene where the guy acting as a lone vigilante who has taken the fate of humanity into his own hands nukes a bunch of new yorkers coming together to try to mediate some conflict. do i think that you need to have read watchmen to write an essay — not a BLOG POST on your DUMB BLOG, an ESSAY in a BOOK — about the politics HBO watchmen? i mean, maybe? is that so crazy? she says making hooded justice black is a radical reimagining of a comics character which is so funny because it makes hooded justice sound like he’s fucking superman or something and not a probable nazi who dressed up as a kinky klansman as part of watchmen’s commentary on the politics of superheroes lmao. like hooded justice is already a radical reimagining of the superhero mythos… because he sucks… and i guess in my heart no i don’t think i’m just being a weird watchmen stan (lmao) to say, “you actually can’t get a meaningful read on the politics of HBO watchmen without taking into account that the actual intervention being performed with this character is ‘what if this nazi was actually a sympathetic black man.’” do you see how that feels different? (also not for nothing but wrt the idea of HBO HJ being inspired by the movie about a black hero, again, in the comics HJ through his klan-ish costuming is already inspired by american iconography of heroism — arguably one he also saw in a silent movie that actually existed by the name of birth of a nation lmao!!!!! — which is part of the indictment of american hero iconography… i mean whatever. it’s so fucking stupid. btw her big takeaway from this character’s arc is that justice has to happen in community which is also funny because like you know who had a really strong sense of community? the klan.) do you see how it feels maybe extra different in a show whose ultimate thesis is something like “what if nuclear weapons were good if we gave them to a black lady cop who loves doing police brutality so so much”?

and… ok one LAST-last thing… in her informal endnotes, she cites “the watchmen universe” created by moore & gibbons, which… idk man. on the one hand i’m like, ok but it actually is mostly irrelevant to my textual beefs here that watchmen was in fact not intended to be a “universe” as we now use that term in the IP era and that the extent to which it has become one has been expressly at the disapproval of moore largely because of the fact that DC fucked him over so bad with this that it literally changed comics contracts going forward lmao. but on the other hand, if you like claim to care about the social context in which art was created, isn’t it not the best look to do not a single google and uncover the most famous example of the abominable labor practices of the comics industry? i acknowledge i could be indulging in pettiness at this point.

OKAY so that’s all on watchmen i think. the odyssey thing is smaller and less of a big deal, more just goofy. so she talks about the cyclops sequence and highlights how in recounting this story to the phaeacians odysseus is identifying certain arbitrary marks of “civilization” such as cultivating fields, and how he ignores the arguably very “civilized” acts we see polyphemus the cyclops commit, such as tending his sheep and making cheese. this is all fine and unobjectionable, even true, although i will say that, first, she presents this like these are insights she is bringing to her close reading of the text but i really struggle to imagine the person in the past several decades who would disagree with the fundamental thesis “the stories and myths and texts of ancient cultures served in part to delineate and reinforce their own social norms”; and second, she opens the essay with an epigraph from toni morrison talking about how she always admired how homer could make you feel sad for the man-eating cyclops, but then she doesn’t bring this quote up at all and talks about polyphemus’s sheep and cheese as though recognizing in them the marks of humanity is, again, a novel way to read the text? idk maybe i am just misreading her tone bc by this point i was very tired of how impressive she seemed to find herself but i found it odd because she’s like “see polyphemus is actually complicated but odysseus doesn’t see that” and i’m like well yeah that’s like what morrison was talking about… i have no idea how this would have scanned in ancient greece bc i’m not a classicist but neither are you so… anyway. i couldn't figure out her attitude on the odyssey (or this chunk of it) as a text, i guess.

so she takes us through the whole incident, including a cutesy reading of “nobody is blinding me” as like a metaphor for how power operates by making it impossible to name it, which, sure. have fun. and she closes on odysseus’s final boast along the lines of “if anyone asks tell them it was odysseus of ithaca son of laertes who blinded you.” and then she goes into this whole thing about how like… this is odysseus wielding his privilege basically, that he’s doing this because he’s so secure in his name and the power that grants him. she says, “It’s his confidence in his own context that is Odysseus’s greatest strength, his greatest privilege, and his greatest cruelty.” which… i guess kinda makes sense… if you ignore the part where namedropping himself is literally what GETS HIS ASS CURSED? he drops his name and instantly polyphemus is like “grandpa end that motherfucker” and boom, odysseus’s men are doomed to death and he is cursed to ten years at sea. like… it is literally not his greatest strength!!! it is the thing that gets his ass beat!!!! and notice that observing this, the BASIC LITERAL PLOT OF THE TEXT, does not require morally defending odysseus, or claiming homer was woke, or whatever. it is very obviously the case that the text does not think odysseus’s thing about his name is bad and he is being punished for it to learn lmao. i actually literally pulled my old fagles translation off the shelf to find what bernard knox had to say about this, if anything, in the intro, and he reads it as an expression (one of several) of the same heroic code you see achilles living by in the iliad, which includes the idea that you must take credit for your shit — even in this situation in which doing so puts yourself and your ship at great risk. this is not a particularly sympathetic reading to most modern readers! but it is one that takes into account the fact that this is the inciting incident for LITERALLY THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THE POEM!!! like it is crazy to quote that line and end the story there as if odysseus just walks away unbothered! the point of that interaction is not that he’s acting like a vanderbilt trying to get a table at a fancy restaurant, and it is not incidental what happens next because what happens next is THE ENTIRE STORY! and, like… it’s also not incidental because the fact of the matter is the world of homer is simply not a world where your name protects you, or achilles and agammemnon would not be hanging out in the fucking underworld. i’m thinking here about knox’s comment on the iliad that it was written in a century where athens spent more years at war than not, and how crucial understanding that is for understanding the world these stories were created in… i mean on the one hand whatever but on the other hand the essay collection is literally about the idea of reading things in context… so like… whatever. you could take the events in the text and then discuss their influence on 3000 years of western art and how that trickles down into values or whatever, i guess… but she didn’t do that so like :/

also then she says “he may be traveling, but he’s not a migrant,” which i just found goofy because i’m not really convinced the concept of A Migrant as she seems to want us to read it makes a ton of sense to superimpose onto the mediterranean 3000 years ago. (i feel like A Migrant requires the concept of… nations? borders? etc.?) happy to be corrected on this by any classicists who follow me.

also her didion essay is not as good a takedown as either didion's own takedown of woody allen or barbara harrison's takedown of didion. lol.

anyway. ok. that’s my grudges off my chest lmao.

[brain4stew]

Can you do a mimic survivor!reader who's scary at first but surprisingly not hostile,who's a trickster as well and how they would react to readers abilities to mimic(like builderman,guest 1337,noob or chance) hcs?

Oooo, now this is quite the interesting request!! I’ll see what I can do with your request! 🫶🫶

(As always, I do not entirely know the characters exact personalities, so they might, if not most likely, will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something is under the cut! ;

(Noob)

• Let’s be real here… You always scare them for whatever reason.

• They’re constantly confused and on edge around you at first.

• Ovetime however, they just become confused and curious about you!

• They strangely enjoy your company, which, surprise them.

• In rounds, you struggle a bit to figure out which of your survivor teammates abilities to mimic…

• Noob spawned nearby you, and saw your struggle, and suggested you mimic their abilities!

• You’re a bit hesitant on it, but decide to go on with it. Now you have “Ghostburger”, “Bloxy Colas” and “Slateskin Potion”!

• You’re strangely very good with their abilities, as you managed to disappear from 1x1x1x1’s sight when being chased. (You ate a Ghostburger, and hid by one of those huge rocks…)

• Even Noob is surprised and happy about it! Teach them your ways, they really want to be able to live longer!!

• Back in the lobby, they immediately go to you, and ramble to you, about how awesome you were with their abilities, and so on!

(Chance)

• He kind of dislikes you (at first), whenever he hears the word “Mimic” he might be thinking of those… Creatures that seem like an ordinary chest or something, but aren’t.

• He’s a bit on edge around you, finding you quite strange at first. Overtime, he sees that you’re basically safe.

• He has asked you once if you can mimic his skills and play cards with him. (You won, a lot…)

• In rounds, you, yet again are struggling with whose skills you should mimic.

• Chance was in the same spawn as you, (he fell over somehow…) and decided to suggest his abilities.

• You agreed, not without double checking, seeing him just, on the ground out of the blue. (…How.)

• You gained his abilities, “Chance’s Favor”, “Hat fix”, “One Shot” and “Reroll”.

• Safe to say… You’re AWESOME, with Chance’s abilities. You could say even better than him!

• He’s a bit jealous due to that, but, what can he do, when you’re contributing to help your teammates?

• Back in the lobby, he asks you for tips, and all of that, to which you respond with; “You just have terrible luck it seems.”

• (Man, he loves and hates you now, LOL.)

(Builderman)

• He’s interested in you. You don’t seem too harmful, and he’s quite curious about you.

• He’s asked you if you can straight up just, copy, whatever someone does. (You do.)

• He has asked you if you can make something for him, which you do, and he’s even more interested and curious about you!

• In rounds, you decided to mimic his abilities.

• You’ve got “Sentry” and “Dispenser” now!

• You put the Sentry by you, when you’re doing a generator. Builderman sees it, of course, and goes to question how your ability works.

• You explain, and now he’s even more interested in you!

• Your team ends up surviving, thanks to your and Builderman’s dispensers and sentry’s.

• Back in the lobby, he keeps questioning you, and asks how you manage to mimic the abilities.

• You, happily yap away about why and how you’re like, and mimicking abilities.

• He’s listening intently, occasionally putting in comments and questions.

• Safe to say, he likes you!

(Guest 1337)

•He’s on edge and constantly avoids you, which, is reasonable, due to his previous experience with war and people.

• Overtime, he gradually becomes less and less avoidant and weary.

• He sees how you’re interacting with others, and does not hurt anyone, so he thinks you’re safe.

• In rounds, you both spawn together, but, you fall over somehow, which you both reasonably get confused at.

• You stand up of course, and struggle again with whose abilities you should mimic. He hesitates for a moment, before requesting his abilities.

• You agree, and mimic his abilities. You now have; “Block”, “Charge” and “Punch”.

• You manage to get used to his abilities, and he gives you heads up in advance when you get his abilities.

• You manage to stall the time A LOT, as the killer wanted to get you first, before they went after Guest 1337.

• Of course, you, not liking that. Charge at the killer, causing you to get their attention again. You block and punch the killer, just before the time ends.

• Back in the lobby, Guest 1337, goes to you, and asks if you want to train with him.

• You agree, and you both become sparring partners, and good friends.

• Safe to say, he likes you, even with him being weary of you.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."